Go down fighting
by Clavyus
Summary: It's been one year to the day since the fake engagement. CoB turned into Brooke Davis holdings. Ravens is about to be released. Lucas is thinking of starting something with his editor, but he decides he needs a little closure with a certain brunette first.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Brucas fic. Just an idea. It's been exactly one year since the fake engagement. CoB turned into Brooke Davis Holdings and Ravens is about to be released. Lucas is seriously considering going out with Lindsay, starting something, but he decides he needs a little closure with a certain brunette first. I owe nothing related to OTH.

Chapter 1 – Monday, May 5th 2008

 **Brooke**

The alarm goes off as usual, five-thirty in the morning. Six and a half hours of restless sleep, and a very busy day ahead. I put on exercise pants and a sports bra and spend an hour on my home gym, with aerobics and weights. Next is breakfast, yoghurt and granola, green juice and coffee, a long hot shower and putting on my working ensemble. Grey tube skirt, broad black belt ivory silk blouse, a chinese pattern scarf, three-inch peek through black heels, jewelry and an artful bun held by shiny black chopsticks. I check myself in the full body mirror on the way out. Twenty-years-old and looking like a million bucks. I am determined to keep my mind focused on work today. Just work.

It's seven-thirty when I get to the street, and my driver Jason is waiting with the limo door open. I smile at him.

"Good morning, Miss Davis."

"Good morning. How was your weekend?"

"It was fine, m'am. Took the kids to a Mets game on Sunday."

"How was it?"

"We lost to the Cubs. But the kids enjoyed it anyways."

"I guess that's what counts."

"Yes m'am." He lives in Brooklyn with his wife and two boys, ages seven and five.

Twenty minutes later he drops me off at the midtown building where Brooke Davis Holdings leases floors twenty-eight to forty. I take the express elevator to the thirty-ninth floor and Millie is waiting for me with my caramel skim latte, no foam and a report on the schedule for the day.

I take meetings continuously until one-thirty, and Millie brings me my lunch, chicken alfredo pasta from Brunelli's, a small greek salad and a diet coke. While I eat, Millie and I go over planning for the week, and, by two, I can close my door and focus on my designs. I'm touching up our Fall catalogue, finishing some of my own designs for our Summer show, marking suggestions and working on red carpet outfits for a couple of celebrities who we want to appear wearing Brooke Davies. It's close to five, and I have successfully managed to keep my mind focused on work the whole day. I stop for a second, get up and stretch, checking my phone for messages. There's about a dozen messages, which I either check or delete, and, in rare ocasions, answer. As I scroll down I come across a message. " _Lucas – 15:42_ ". Damn.

I haven't heard from him for almost one year. Shit. I had managed to keep him out of my mind for the whole day. I mark the message and my thumb approaches the delete button, but, at the last microssecond, I open it instead.

" _Bethesda Fountain. 7 pm. Pls."_

No. There is no way. I check the time. It's a quarter past five. I have work in front of me for at least another five hours. No way I'm doing this to myself. I get back to work. At a quarter to seven I begin to cry. No. No way. I run my arm across my working table, scattering work product everywhere. I start pacing.

 _"Pls."_

At five past seven I grab my bag and leave. I'm furious. Who does he think he is? The limo is waiting at the garage.

"Good evening m'am. Home?"

Jason looks concerned. "Fifth and Seventy second. Fast."

"Yes, m'am."

He drops me off at the entrance of the Park at half past, and it's a ten minute walk to the fountain on my heels. I climb down the steps, and my hope that he had given up and left dies. He stands up and gives me a soft smile when he sees me. Somehow, he looks taller, broader, his hair cut short, just the way I like it. Cheap tan slacks, a grey coat and a blue shirt with a yellow silk tie. He's holding a single red rose. I get next to him and I push him, both hands against his chest with all my strength. It's just like pushing a wall. I raise my voice. "Lucas! What makes you think you can just summon me like that? I'm a busy, busy woman. Who do you think you are?" I push him again, trying to throw him into the fountain. The people around are beginning to stare. He hands me the rose and I take it, noticing the lost face and the faint moisture appearing in his eyes. It takes every ounce of my self control to stand rigid three feet away from him and not to jump at his neck and hug him. It's been one year to the hour, since I saw him last. I've missed him every single day.

His voice sounds sad. "I'm glad you came. Although I hoped for a slightly less hostile welcome"

"It's been a year, Lucas. What do you want?"

"In one word? You."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 _"It's been a year, Lucas. What do you want?"_

 _"In one word? You."_

Monday, May 5th, 2008. Bethesda Fountain, Central Park, NYC.

 **Brooke**

I take a step back. "Me? Are you out of your mind? Why would I want to put myself through that hell again?"

"It's been a year since that night. I'm sober, of sound mind and not grieving over being turned down or having broken up with anyone. I've thought about you every day since that night. So, I'm here to tell you that I'm still in love with you. That's all."

I close my eyes. His words are like music. Everything I want to hear and more. That's what makes me so angry. I've been through hell this year, trying to forget that kiss, trying to get over him. And here he is again, opening these same wounds again. Making my life hell again. "No! You're not in love with me. Go back to Peyton. Go say these words to her. Maybe she'll take you back."

He looks so hurt. "I'm sorry, Brooke. I don't understand what I did that made you so angry, but I'm sorry."

I raise my voice. "You have the arrogance to come here declaring your love after all you did to me and you don't understand why I'm angry? You broke my heart. Twice! And now you're here wasting my time with your bullshit? Get a life, Lucas. Find someone else to bother."

A single tear comes down his face. I saw this man go through unbelievable heartbreak, and I never saw him cry. That's who I am now. A stone hearted bitch that can make the strongest man cry.. I'm Victoria now. He breathes in deeply, collects himself and speaks again, in a measured tone. "My publisher is throwing a party this Thursday, seven thirty, at the Ballroom B at the Plaza. It's for the official release of my book. You were there when I signed the publishing contract, we celebrated together. I thought you might want to be there. Come, Don't come. Whatever. You've made your feelings very clear. I'm sorry I bothered you. Goodbye."

He turns around and walks slowly away. Shoulders slumped in defeat. Hands in his pockets. I stand there. Rooted to the spot, watching the love of my life walk away with his heart broken in a million pieces. He never looks back. I don't know what would have happened if he did. Maybe I would race after him, jump on him, kiss him like I've been dreaming for years. Maybe I would glare at him, urging him to keep going. Maybe he would finally see through my lies and my walls, to the stupid feelings I still have for him. Anyways, he never turns back. And an hour later I'm still there. Rooted to the spot. Trying to find the courage to move.

Tuesday, May 6th, 2008.

I drag myself out of bed at half past seven, after pretending to sleep for four or five hours. I shower, brush my teeth and put on my C.E.O. uniform. Even if I'm no good at anything else, I'm great at keeping appearances. I forgo breakfast and take the elevator down.

"Good morning Miss Davis."

"Good morning, Jason. How's the family?"

"They're fine. Thank you, m'am."

I read a report from my dear CFO, Victoria Davis on the way to work. As of this morning, Brooke Davis Holdings is worth seven hundred twenty three million dollars and change, and sixty percent of that is mine. Sales are up in the popular CoB line, and we are doing very well in the cosmetics division. The coutoure line shows a loss, but that is by design. Its purpose is more marketing, driving up the value of the Davis brand, than actually making money. All that wealth leaves a taste of ash in my mouth and a little headache starting between my eyes. The movie of Lucas back moving away slowly is running constantly in the back of my mind, making the whole fucking world gray.

I get off at the thirty-ninth floor, to a smiling Millie and my caramel latte. It's the first thing to enter my stomach since yesterday's lunch. The world begins to seem a little less gray on a settled stomach. "So, what do we have this morning?"

"There's a meeting with people from Neiman Marcus at nine thirty, and the communications people want to float a proposal for a cable TV fashion show. I have them down at ten thirty and..." We walk into my office and Victoria is standing in the middle of the room. "Ms. Davis wants to see you."

I turn to Millie and smirk. "Thanks for the warning."

"Sorry..."

"Good morning, mother."

"You're late."

"One of the advantages of being your own boss. I can arrive whenever I want."

"It's bad for business."

"So? I read your report. We seem to be doing fine. What do you want?"

"I wanted to go over resource allocation for next quarter, maybe consider a loan, or some stock issue to expand B Davies Communications..." She stops and looks at me. "What's wrong?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Your hair and your make-up. Sloppy. This ensemble was put together by a monkey, and you look like you haven't slept in a week. This is unacceptable. What's wrong? Last time you were like this was after... Has that boy shown up again?"

Nobody ever accused her of being stupid. Just heartless. "No. And stay away from my personal life."

"Just keep in mind that your personal life reflects on the bottom line of this company, child. You are the public image of Brooke Davis Holdings. Remember that when you decide to show up for work looking like a homeless bum."

I sit down in my chair and close my eyes. I open them again, hoping that, somehow, mother had disappeared. No such luck. "Get out of my office, mother. Go poke the eyes off little kittens, or whatever you do in your spare time. I'm not in the mood."

"You're such a mannerless child. What's with your mood? We have business to conduct."

I raise my voice. "Not now mother! Get out of my office!"

She realizes she doesn't want to cross me right this minute. We've been testing each other's limits often for the past year, and we've both learned a bit about not crossing certain boundaries. It's a working relationship, abrasive and tiring, but it serves some kind of purpose. She leaves, but not without slamming the door on her way out. The beginnings of a headache have now flourished into a nasty little nail between my eyes. I touch my intercom. "Miranda."

"Miss Davis?"

"A glass of orange juice and two excedrin, please."

"Right away, miss Davis."

Miranda is my secretary, and her desk is right outside my office. Millie is my executive assistant, and she has an office and a secretary of her own. Five minutes later Miranda comes in with the juice and the pills. She also hands me an envelope. "This came by special delivery m'am."

"Thank you"

I take my pills and down the orange juice. I look at the envelope. I know what it is. It's got my name in front and the logo of Pearson House Publishers on the back. I open it and check the invitation.

 _"Lucas E. Scott and Pearson House would like to invite you for the official release of "An Unkindness of Ravens"... "_

The invitation includes a plus one, and must be confirmed until tomorrow.

I go through my morning meetings, with only an occasional glance at the envelope on my desk. It just sits there like a dead mouse, and just as attractive. The problem is that I want to go. I want to go see his triumph. I want to see if that line he read to me, almost two years ago, made it to the published version of the book. But there's no way I can go, given where we stand after yesterday. No way.

My lunch is gourmet chinese and ice tea, eaten in the solitude of my office. After lunch I try to work on my sketches, but I can produce nothing but trash. After about an hour, I give up. I grab my purse and get out of the office. I walk aimlessly for an hour, and I find myself back at Bethesda fountain. I need to put an end to this. A clean break. I can't go on like this. Finally I make a decision. I take a cab back to the office and find my mother sitting on my chair, with the invitation in her hand.

"Where were you?"

"None of your business."

"This explains it." She waves the invitation at me. "He's back."

I know what the problem is. She is terrified of Lucas. She remembers it as clearly as I do. " _Lucas Scott was the one boy I might have lost it for._ "

"Leave it alone, mother. I keep telling you to stay out of my personal life."

"And I keep telling you that your personal life impacts the bottom line of this company." She looks at the invitation and sneers. "You're not going."

I laugh. "Because you say so."

"No. Because he's no good for you. Look at you. This stupid boy pops up at the horizon and you start to break down."

I pick up the invitation from her hands. "If I want to go to the book release of an old friend, I will go. You are not going to stop me."

"If you're going, I'm going too."

I laugh again. "Thank you for the offer, but no thank you. I can find my own date."

She saunters out of my office. "Your funeral."

"Miranda."

"Yes, m'am?"

"Get me Mark Geller on the phone."

Mark is a photographer for Vogue. He owes me a couple of favors, which I'm now planning on cashing. He is tall, dark and built like a god. He is also bent as a fish hook, but it's not apparent, and very few people know that. He's perfect for what I have in mind.

"Hello, Mark? Hi, sweetie. Are you free Thursday night?"

"Hi, Brooke. Yes. I'm free. What can I do you for?"

"I need a fake boyfriend for one night. It's a book release party for an ex, and I just can't go stag."

"You know I'm your man, sweet girl. Time and place?"

"I'll pick you up at your place a quarter past seven. And keep your gay down, please."

"Anything for you, baby girl."

That sentence, dear to my heart, mocks me for the next couple of days.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 Plaza Hotel, NYC. Thursday, May 8th, 2008.

The limo drops us off at the hotel about a quarter to eight. I'm wearing one of my own designs from the coutoure line, a deep green silk number, ankle length with a side slit up to the thigh, bare shoulders and a hint of cleavage, with a low cut back. Complement that with four inch peek-through black Manolos and a matching clutch, platinum dangly earrings and an artfully chaotic do, with my hair falling loose, in soft waves, across my back. Mark is looking like a GQ model, with an Armani light gray suit, white shirt, thin red tie, brown leather shoes without socks and a five o'clock shadow. A couple of photographers catch us as we get in, but we ignore their questions. We head to Ballroom B, where a perky blonde receptionist behind a table asks for out invite. I fish the cardboard rectangle out of my clutch and hand it to her.

"Ah, Miss Davis. Welcome. I have something for you." She dives into a cardboard box and finds a book, which she hands to me. "This is your copy. It's already signed."

"Thank you."

The dust cover has an impressionistic drawing of a basketball court, with soft lighting and a river on the background. In first plane, to a side, small bleachers with the shadow of the back of a girl with long dark hair, and a raven next to her. She is looking at a shadow of a thin boy, doing a jump shot. It's a beautiful piece, with a slight melancholic tone, and its subtle message is not lost on me. The girl should have been blonde, except that that would have been a lie. Peyton never really warmed up to the rivercourt. She never really got it. On the other side of the cover,, a smiling picture of Lucas Scott, one in which the warm smile doesn't really reach the eyes. I open the book, and behind the cover is a long message in ink, which I'll read later, maybe, opposite a blank page with the words. _"To Lily."_

At the entrance of the ballroom, there's a blown up copy of the dust cover. I stop and stare at the picture. Shocked to the core. In the blown up cover, the girl sitting in the bleachers is blonde. What the fuck is he playing at? I stand there for a bit, and then I shrug. It doesn't matter. It's all ancient history anyways.

I grab Mark's arm to steady myself, as we walk in. The reception is well under way. I estimate around three hundred people milling about. At a glance, I can spot half a dozen known faces, including a B-list actor, an up-and-coming Broadway producer and a well-known german finance genius. The finance guy takes a beeline to me, and tries to get a little insider information on revenue trends for the fashion sector. Over the years I've become very good at talking without saying anything, and I use this skill liberally with the guy. I note that Mark's eyes are turning glassy, until something catches his eyes in a corner of the room. With his six foot three he can look over people, whereas from my five foot four, eight with the heels, all I can see is the crowd surrounding me.

"Good lord, Brooke!"

I try to stretch myself to see what he's staring at. "What?"

"It's the author. Our host. He is incredibly hot!" He begins walking in, what I assume, is the right direction, kinda dragging me along. Along the way, a clear line of sight appears and I can get a good look at Lucas. My heart stops for a beat. He's wearing a high-end charcoal Zegna, perfectly fitted to highlight his trim, athletic body, a sky blue shirt and a light yellow tie. His hair is buzz-cut, just the way I like it, and he has a sexy three-day beard. Whoever put the ensemble together really knew this business. We get a little closer and he sees me. A little flash of ice in his eyes, a small smile, is all the acknowledgment I get. Then I focus on the woman next to him, with a hand softly touching his arm. Tall, five-nine maybe With her white Jimmy Choos her head is level with his. Honey blonde hair, cut shoulder length and straight. Beautiful face, broad generous mouth, a pair of large, luminous blue eyes. She is beautifully made up. A dark blue St. Laurent perfectly complementing her eyes, conservative cut, over a very nicely shaped size four body. My heart turns to stone in my chest when I see the adoring look she's giving my Lucas, and the easy familiarity of his response. She is a natural, born to wear these clothes. They look very, very nice together.

He speaks as we approach. "Brooke! I'm glad you came." His tone is dry, almost mocking. "I want you to meet my editor, Lindsay Strauss. Linds, this my old friend Brooke Davis."

I turn around and as I'm about to introduce Mark I notice he is literally fawning over Lucas. I laugh to myself. So much for my ersatz boyfriend. "Very nice to meet you, Lindsay. This is my friend Mark Geller. Congratulations to you two."

"Thank you. It's my pleasure to meet the famous Brooke. I love your clothes, my closet is half full with them. And the congratulations are all due Lucas. I merely helped him channel his creative talent." The look she throws at him as she says this would have instantly killed a diabetic.

Lucas smiles at her. "Now, you're being modest. There's a lot of your creative energy in the book too."

She lowers her eyes and blushes demurely. I'm truly beginning to hate this girl. She grabs him by the arm and gives him a kiss in the cheek, leaning forward and pulling one leg up. I turn to Lucas. "Can I have a second?"

He looks at me and frowns. "Sure."

I pull him aside and whisper. "Where are you staying?"

He balks for a second, but ends up answering. "Here. Room 1912."

I look at Lindsay. "You're staying alone?"

He sighs. "We're not together."

I give him a thin smile. "Yet."

He nods. "Yet."

I keep a discreet eye on Lucas and Lindsay. She is good at doing her thing, helping him networking, and introducing to the right people. During the party I find out that, aside from being an editor, her father is Sean Strauss, one of the owners of Pearson. He is charming and smart. In a fifteen minute conversation I find out that he expects Lucas' book to be a big hit and that he thinks the world of Lucas.

After the party, I send Mark on his way and sit on the hotel lobby for a bit. I open my copy of the book to look at what he wrote to me.

" _Brooke, this book is about the last two years in high school. It's a book about two brothers finding each other, and about unspeakable tragedy and evil. But it is also about romance and love. I know it doesn't do justice to what we were. I had to write it this way, because a book like this one needs a happy ending to succeed. However, beneath the romantic story with Peyton and its happy ending, there's another story. There are glimpses that the narrator/protagonist himself is lying, and trying to convince himself of the truth of his lies in order to protect a broken heart. It was very hard to write it, but the end result just might be worth it. Perhaps, in this small way, I was able to be true to what we were. Forever yours, Lucas."_

Forever mine. I feel like burning the book and its duplicity. This is typical. His way of stringing both of us along. An hour passes. I read pieces of the book. That passage he read to me is still there.

I knock on his door and he opens it, barefoot, wifebeater and shorts, a glass of scotch in his hand. He shows no surprise on seeing me.

"Brooke, come in."

"No. I just came to return this." I extend the book. "I don't want it."

He takes it without comment, his eyes hard as ice. "Very well."

I should have turned around and walked away. My traitor mouth had other plans. "Did you at least try to fix things with Peyton?"

"Why would I? She is not the one I want."

"You proposed to her. If there's anything we both know about you is that your heart can turn on a dime. I'm pretty sure if you go see her all those old feelings will rush right back."

He laughs. "Two years later, and you're still pushing me to her."

"You belong with her."

He looks sad and defeated. "I don't."

"You say that, but your actions tell another story." I point at the book. "She's going to read that as a love letter."

"Maybe. That's her problem. She only hears what she wants."

I shrug. "Goodbye, Lucas."

He looks into my eyes. "My heart is constant, Brooke. I fell in love with you almost four years ago, and this has never changed."

"You proposed to her!"

He gives me a bleak stare. "What can you do, when the person you love doesn't love you back? You try to move on, that's all."

I scoff. Moving on. "Go see her, Broody. Before you begin something with bookgirl." I turn around and walk to the elevators. A little out of character, he runs after me. "Brooke, take the book. I dare you to read it."

I look at the book and then at him. "Are you stuck in high school? What do you mean "I dare you"?"

"It might surprise you. And the old Brooke never refused a dare."

I take the book back. "I'll make you a deal."

"This sounds oddly familiar" I smile. "What deal?"

"I read the book. You go see Peyton."

He stares at me for a few seconds. "Very well, deal."

I call the elevator. "I'll see you around."

"Bye."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Scott residence, East Clarksson, June 28th, 2008.

I flew commercial to Charlotte, a straight two-hour hop from JFK, and rented a powder blue Mercedes two-seater at the airport. It's a bit over eighty miles from the airport to his house, and I did it in just about an hour. That put me at their door just about noon. The house is a nice one, a well-maintained nineteenth century stone pile with red roof tiles and light green wooden trim. It sits on a manicured acre lot with a broad front lawn and a couple of full grown poplars. I park on their driveway and get out, grabbing the gifts and a small suitcase. I'm staying the night, going back tomorrow early morning.

I knock on the door, and a smiling, dark haired giant opens. My oldest friend, the closest thing to a brother I have in my life.

"Hey, hotshot."

He grabs me in a bear hug. "Brooke!" He twirls me around like I weigh exactly nothing, shutting the front door with his foot. "So good you came."

He puts me back on the floor, and I rearrange my crumpled ensemble."I wouldn't miss it for the world." Haley walks in, wiping her hands in an apron, looking like a very respectable and gorgeous young mother, which is exactly what she is. If he is my brother, she is the sister of my heart.

"Tigger!" She grabs me in her own bear hug, quite a bit less intense than her husband's, but just as sweet. I love these two. They are the closest thing to a real family I have. Them, and his mother. Yet another reason to hate him. He gets to live with them. He keeps the mother. I get Victoria.

"Hey, Tutormom. Looking mighty fine, in your housewife style."

"You're looking pretty good too, fashion goddess and CEO."

I grab her hands. "I've missed you guys." I look around. "So, where is the birthday boy?"

"Playing in the family room." She drags me across a hallway, to another room, much larger, with sofas, bookcases, a large flat screen TV and a small blonde boy sitting in the floor, playing with plastic figures and muttering to himself.

Nathan sweeps him up and holds him up to me. "Hey, Jimmy Jam. This is aunt Brooke. Do you remember her?" He looks at me with his Scott eyes. Not the cerulean blue of his father, but the sky blue of his uncle. That, together with his sandy blonde hair and the shape of his eyes makes him a small Lucas. The son I have in my dreams looks like him.

He pipes in with a thin voice, and precise articulation, sounding older than two. "I remember. Aunt Brrrooke." He forces the "r" sound, which tends to be difficult for small children.

"Good job!" I smile at him, and he smiles back. I love the way you say my name."

"Daddy. Can I go, now? I wanna play."

"Sure." Nathan sets him on the floor, and I squat next to him.

"I have a gift for you, Jamie."

"A gift?"

"Yes. It's your birthday, isn't it?"

"I'm two now!" He shows me two fingers. "Two!"

"You're a big boy now."

"Not a baby?"

"Not a baby." He gives me a hug.

"Gift?"

"Oh, yes." I hand him the package. He opens it, scattering wrapping paper around.

"Wow!" He lifts the outfit for his parents to see. "It's spidey!"

"That's right, Jimmy Jam. It's spidey. What do we say?"

He lifts a finger, like he just remembered something. "Thank you aunt Brrooke."

"You're welcome. I hope you like it."

"I love it! Can I put it?"

I look at Haley. "Sure, sweetie. You daddy will take you to your room. You can change your diaper and put the spidey suit on. Is that ok?"

"Fine." He extends his little hand to Nathan. "Go?"

Haley and I watch the two boys climb up the stairs. Haley looks at me. "Come to the kitchen. I was just finishing up lunch."

"Can I do anything?"

"Maybe wash and cut up veggies for a salad."

"That sounds just like my speed." My culinary talents are limited at best.

We get back to the kitchen, and Haley puts me to work. "So, where's Lucas?"

"He drove to Tree Hill yesterday. He's driving back after lunch with the birthday girl and the grandmothers."

I try to sound really casual. I know how smart Haley is. "How's he doing?"

She frowns and speaks softly. "I worry about him, Tigger."

"Why? Isn't he over Peyton?"

"No. He's been pining after her for a whole year."

"Does he ever talk about her?"

"He hasn't mentioned her name once. It's like she never existed." So, how the hell does she knows he is pining over her? It's just an assumption. Suddenly I realize she doesn't know anything. She doesn't know about the fake engagement, or meeting me in Central Park, or the whole thing of the book. She is his best friend, and she has no idea what's going on. Why?

"Why are you worried, then?"

"He seems to have given up. He's always so serious. You know, all the time we've been here, it looks like every co-ed in this place wants to get in his pants. You should see some of the crazy stunts they've pulled."

I smile. "Like getting naked on the backseat of his car?"

Haley giggles. "Worse. I hear there's a cash prize for the girl who first gets there. A grand."

"Wow."

"Not a single date, Brooke. He won't even look at any girls. In the past few months, his editor Lindsay developed a huge crush on him." That I've seen with my own eyes. The cow. "She's been throwing herself at him. And they work very closely together. She is a great girl, Tigger. Smart, beautiful and nice. I really like her. I've been pushing hard for him to give her a chance, but he just won't." And there is the reason he's keeping her in the dark. She makes assumptions and she meddles. Who does he talk to, then? Nobody, just like me.

I grimace. "Maybe he needs some closure with Peyton."

"Maybe. What about you? Anyone?"

"Not since Chase. I've been working too hard. No time for boys."

"Brooke Davis! What happened to you? No time for boys?"

"Maybe I grew up."

She sighs. "Didn't we all?"

"I know you're moving to Maryland. What's he doing next year?"

"He has all kinds of options. Schools all over the place offered him jobs, both for coaching and creative writing. I think he favors UNC. That way he can live in Tree Hill and stay close to Karen and Lily. He's missed them a lot these two years."

"Was New York ever in the mix?"

"I think NYU made him a nice offer. Why?"

"It would be cool to have him around." The reasons for the Bethesda fountain meeting slowly become clearer. If I had let him in even a bit, he would probably be moving to New York. Did I make a mistake? No. It doesn't matter. He can't be trusted.

Haley gives me a suspicious look. I stepped over the line with that one and she begin to realize there's something else going on. "Yeah. I'm sure it would be." She knows she may have been running her mouth a bit too much.

"What is it with all this talk about Lucas! Tell me, when can we expect the next little Scott..."

He gets in around four with Karen, Deb and Lily. Lily is looking more and more like Keith, with light brown hair and honey-colored eyes. I totally get why he dedicated his book to her. Her life is shaped by the events in the book, more sharply than anyone else.

She is shy around strangers, I can barely get a smile and a word out of her, even when she opens up the princess outfit I made her. She really blossoms around him. You can almost touch the happiness around those two, when he sits on the floor to play with her. Jamie joins them, and soon the three of them are rolling on the floor, laughing.

Karen notices me watching them. She gets next to me and speaks softly. "That's the only time I see him happy. When he is playing with one of those two."

"He's good with them."

"He's going to be a great father, someday."

I look into Karen's eyes. She can see through my bullshit, better than anyone. She envelops me in a hug, the mother of my heart, and I feel unwelcome tears coming out. "Oh, sweetie. It's ok." I get hold of myself. She puts her hands on my shoulders and looks into my eyes. "You should talk to him, you know? Life is too short."

I take a little step back and her hands fall from my shoulders. "I can't."

She smiles softly at me and looks at Lucas. "I understand, I think. You do what's best for you. Remember that I love you, and I'm very proud of you. sweet girl." The words I would kill to hear from my own mother, she gives to me so easily... suddenly, I can't breathe.

"I need a little air," I step outside and start walking. A couple of blocks up the street there's a little park, with a swing set. I sit at the swing, and try to collect my broken pieces into a semblance of a whole woman. I don't know how long later, he walks up, hands in his pockets, and sits on the swing next to mine.

"You ok?"

"Go away, Lucas." He's the last person I want to see me in this state.

He smiles and stays. I confess I get a little comfort from his silent presence. A few minutes later he speaks, as if to nobody.

"I called her. I talked to her. She's meeting with me in a couple of weeks, at a book signing."

I nod, and keep silent. He looks at me, a slight smile in his face, and an expectant look in his eyes. I let the silence stretch, but after a couple of minutes, I relent. "I read it."

"And?"

I look into his eyes and nod slightly. "I liked it" He gives me a bright smile, and I can't help it but respond with one of my own.

"Haley wants us back. She wants to cut the cake."

I get up from the swing. "Let's go." I extend him a hand. He takes it.

We walk back holding hands. For a little moment, the world seems right.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – November 26th, 2008, Thanksgiving Thursday. – Scott residence, College Park, Maryland.

Traveling during the holidays is a nightmare. Instead ot battling the crowds, I took the company jet to Baltimore, and hired a limo to pick me up at the runway. I'm actually taking a mini vacation, three nights with Nathan, Haley and our godson. It's the first extended period I'll spend with them since high school. It's easier. After all, he's not living with them anymore.

The limo drops me off in front of a white country-style house, two stories and a wrap-around veranda on a half-acre lot, looking fairly new. It's solid middle-class, not fancy but it certainly doesn't look like living quarters for a couple of starving students.

I ring the bell, and soon enough, Haley, her apron and a broad smile open the front door. The squeal and the hug as warm as ever. "Tigger!"

"Hey, tutormom! Looking good. Nice digs too."

"Thanks. Nathan and Jamie went to the park. Do you want a tour?"

"Sure."

The house itself is very nice. A big living/dining room, open plan kitchen and family room, a nice master bedroom with ensuite bathroom and a covered porch made as a deposit and laundry. Upstairs two nice bedrooms, Jamie's room and a spare, sharing a second bathroom. The furniture is student chic, second-hand stuff, and all mismatched, but very comfortable. Lots of sweet feminine touches. I leave the goodie bag I brought from New York in the kitchen, and my suitcase in the guest room.

"So, what do you think?"

"I like what you did here. It's a very nice house."

She catches my puzzlement and explains, looking slightly embarrassed. "It's Lucas'. We're living here for free. The deal is that we pay back rent with Nathan's sign-up check from the NBA."

Lucas. "That seems... generous." I'm actually surprised they accepted it. These two are very proud.

"Nathan and Lucas had a fight about it. Lucas said he would not have his godson living in a dump. Nathan told him, rather forcefully, to mind his own business. Truth is, Lucas has been raising Jamie with us from the beginning, and he was heartbroken to move away. This way he feels he's still taking care of Jamie, in some way. So I told Nathan to shut up and take it."

"I glad he did it." I wouldn't want them living in a dump either, even if this was exactly what I was expecting. "What about you? Do you like Maryland?"

"It's a great university. Nathan is over the moon with the basketball program, and I'm pretty happy with tutoring and the English department too. I do a few shifts on a diner nearby for some extra cash. The truth is that I miss having Lucas around, but I like having just the three of us too. Besides, we talk on the phone almost every day."

I manage to hold my tongue and not ask about him. I know Peyton is dating some movie guy in LA, so something happened after their meeting. She didn't mention it, though. The book has been selling like hotcakes.

"When are Nathan and Jamie coming back?"

"They should be here soon. Lucas and Lily are driving up from Tree Hill this afternoon."

"What?"

"Oh. I'm sorry. I should have told you. It's a last minute thing."

"What about Karen?"

"It looks like Karen and Andy are getting back together. A couple of weeks ago Karen went to New Zealand, and left Lily with Lucas. Andy and Karen were supposed to be here yesterday, but she caught a nasty flu, and they postponed the return for few days. I was talking to Lucas yesterday, and I told him to come."

Shit. "I can go to a hotel."

"Don't be silly. We'll put an air mattress in Jamie's room. Lucas and Lily can stay there. Is it a problem?"

Yes it is. A big one. "No. It's fine." Stupid. There goes my vacation. Should have stayed in New York.

I open the door, and there he is, old jeans and a white t-shirt, with Lily in his hand. Of course, Lucas is not surprised to see me. She's dressed in one of the dresses I sent her, a light green number with white embroidery, but her beautiful hair is an ungodly mess.

"Hi."

"Lucas! Can't you use a brush? Just look at this mess!" I turn around. "Tutormom! Come quickly. We have a hair emergency on our hands."

Haley comes in. "Oh, hi Luke." Then she looks at Lily. "Oh, sweetie! What happened?"

She looks at Haley and pouts. "Lukie doesn't know brush. It hurts."

Haley and I exchange a glance and frown at Lucas. "Didn't Karen..."

"Of course she did!" He raises his arms helplessly. "Carefully condition her hair, then comb to remove knots and a hundred brushstrokes before bed. The shower and combing works fine. But the moment I get near her with a brush at night..."

Haley and I start laughing. I mean, really laughing. Lucas and Lily just stand there, with a remarkably similar offended expression. "Luke, listen. You're not doing anything wrong. The thing is, brushing does hurt a bit. And Lily knows it."

"That's right, Broody. The choice is simple. Brushing at night, or short hair. Even a two-year-old can understand that. And this little imp really likes her long, beautiful hair. Don't you?"

She looks down. "Yeah."

"So, next time she gives you grief, just remind her."

"All right. Thanks. What about..?"

"That rat's nest? Don't worry. We'll take care of it."

"A wat in my head?"

Jamie lifts his head from his toys. "There's a rat in Lily's hair? Can I see it?"

Haley waves her arms in denial. "There's no rat. Aunt Brooke was making a joke."

The boys stay downstairs in front of the TV, watching football, of all things. We go upstairs for our hair salvage mission. We fill the tub and put her in. She plays with Jamie's duckie, happy as a clam, while we wash her hair and use some serious detangling conditioner Haley had around. Then it was time for a nice combing.

"Ouchy!"

"Hang in there, baby girl. That idiot brother of yours..."

"Lukie not an idiot! He my big bwother and I love him."

"I know, sweetie. It's just..."

Suddenly she starts sobbing. "I love him vewy much!"

"What is it, sweetie? We know you do."

"I don't want to go!"

"You're not going anywhere."

"I am. Mommy is taking me away. She is taking me away fwom Lukie!" She keeps crying.

Haley asks me. "Can you finish this? I'm gonna talk to Lucas."

"Sure." I want to know too. A few minutes later Haley comes back up. We dress Lily and go back down. We leave Lily playing with Jamie in front of the TV, and go sit outside for a bit.

"What is it, Tutormom?"

"She's right. Andy and Karen got married in New Zealand. They're coming back and staying until Christmas. After that they are getting on a big sailboat, and they'll be sailing around the world."

I frown. "Karen got married without her kids present?"

"I understand it was kind of last minute. I think Andy's mother is very sick, and they wanted to do it while she could see it. They are going to do it again here."

"What about Lucas?"

"He's as devastated as Lily is. Just putting on a brave face."

"Damn."

During dinner I pay attention to Lucas and Lily. Now I can see the strain in both of them. Of course, she is easily distracted, but she is clingy and weepy, which is probably her way of showing it. Lucas is good at hiding it. He is much harder to read than he used to be, but I know him. I can see the broodiness behind his eyes. After dinner Lucas takes the toddlers to Jamie's room to read them stories. Nathan stays below, cleaning up the kitchen, while Haley and I quietly sit in the floor, outside Jamie's room, listening to Lucas embroidering a whole story out of his own mind.

"... _then, the prince and the princess entered the dragon's cave. They knew it was very dangerous but_..."

He's a great storyteller. First the children would interrupt with a question or a comment. Later they got involved by his story, and I must confess, so did we. At some point Lucas steps out of the room and finds us sitting there.

"Hey!" He whispers. "Had fun?"

"It was nice, Luke."

"Thanks. I've been tempted by the idea of writing children's books for a while, but I'm not sure."

Haley takes his hand. "You should do it. I know Jamie and Lily would love it."

"I'll float this by Lindsay. See what she thinks."

I'm curious. "Why Lindsay?"

"She's not just my editor. She's my agent too. If I write it, it's her job to sell it."

Nathan set a fire in the fireplace and opened a bottle of wine. We chat about nothing, mostly me telling scurrilous gossip about the rich and stupid from the New York glitterati. Lucas talks about Tree Hill, and our friends, Mouth and his romantic misadventures in college, Skillz and Bevin breaking up, which made me a little sad, Junk becoming a cop, and Fergie a firefighter. At some point Nathan and Haley get sleepy and decide to go to bed, leaving Lucas and I alone in front of the fireplace.

"I've been dying to ask you. What happened when you met Peyton? She won't say a word about it."

"She stood me up. We never met."

"Really?"

"I'm sorry. I guess I didn't really fulfill my end of our deal."

He sounds annoyed, not hurt. I pay close attention to him as I speak. "Something must have happened, cause she's been dating this movie guy for several months now. She sounds happy on the phone."

He looks into my eyes. Smiles a bit. "Good for her. I'm glad." We stare into each other's eyes for a bit. I'm very tempted into kissing him, but before I make a move he averts his eyes and sighs.

"Is there any hope for us, Brooke?"

Yes. Of course! You idiot. But I'm not ready, not yet. "No."

He gets up, looking tired and defeated. He holds the side of my face and gives me a kiss on the forehead. "Good night, Brooke."

"Good night."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – November 27th, 2008, Black Friday. – Scott residence, College Park, Maryland.

It was a restless night. I wake up to the smell of coffee and a pair of bright blue eyes looking at me, a few inches from my face, steaming mug between us.. "Lucas!" I was lying on top of the covers, with my nightie pulled all the way up to my waist, my behind up in the air, covered with the tiniest pair of red lace panties. I jump up, completely unprepared to the flood of raw desire that hits me.

"Lucas!" I guess I'm stuck just saying his name.

He hands me the cup of coffee. "Good morning, Pretty Girl."

I sip the coffee, trying to regain my balance. I avoid looking at him. "W-What are you doing here?"

"I came to bring you a cup of coffee and ask you a question. I had to stop and watch the view for a bit, though. You're looking very fine, Miss Davis. Love the panties."

Is he flirting with me? "Well, thank you, Scott. Next time, knock first." I point a finger at him. "And keep your pervy eyes to yourself."

I look up and see a broad smile. "It's nothing I haven't seen before." The ass. He is flirting.

"It's off limits now. What do you want?"

"Do you have plans for the day?"

"It's Black Friday, moron. Biggest shopping day of the year. I'm taking Tutormom shopping." He makes a face, like he's about to say something. "What? Do you have something else in mind?"

"I was thinking of taking the toddlers out for the day. The Baltimore Aquarium, lunch, maybe a movie, and I came to invite you. Give Nathan and Haley the day to themselves. They haven't had one of those in quite a while."

Right. Spend the day playing family with Lucas, Jamie and Lily. Perfect. And him in this playful mood that pulls strings in my heart I had forgotten I had. Maybe I could spend the day getting waterboarded instead. "All right, Broody. I'll be downstairs in fifteen. Fix me breakfast." That's it. I'm a masochist. Bring it on, fifty shades.

"French toast coming up." Broody's french toast. Life is not all pain, I guess.

Tight jeans, low ballet shoes for a day of running after toddlers. A button down white shirt, and a v-necked light green cashmere sweater. Push-up demitasses and an artfully unbuttoned top button. High ponytail, just a hint of blush and eyeliner. Damn! Am I trying to seduce the boy I pushed away yesterday? I feel the butterflies, like I was actually going on a date with him. I close the top button. Shit. I open it again. If he's going to flirt, at least I can keep my assets in view. Besides, he already got quite a view this morning.

I get a bright eyed smile and a plate of french toast with bacon for my troubles. "Very nice ensemble, Davis. A fine view from where I stand."

"I'm glad you like it. And thank you for breakfast." Nathan walks in and smiles at me. "Hey, Brooke. Looking good this morning."

"And good morning to you, Hotshot. What's up?"

"Just put Jamie's car seat in Lucas' Jeep. And thank you, guys. Promise we'll put the break to good use."

Haley comes in with Lily in one arm, and Jamie by the hand. "Fed and diapered. Food and extra diapers are in the bag. Also, two portable dvd players with suitable viewing material. Do you know what time you're coming back?"

Lucas replies. "After six. That all right?"

Nathan and Haley embrace, exchanging a kiss. "It's fine. Thanks."

Haley takes in my outfit and smiles. "You two behave. And try not to lose any toddlers."

Lucas gives her a kiss in the cheek and picks up Lily. "I'll try not to get distracted."

I extend a hand to Jamie. "Shall we go?"

"Where are we going, aunt Brrooke?"

"The Aquarium. Look at the fish."

Lily asks. "Like Nemo?"

"Yes. And bigger."

"Like sharks?"

"Yes. Little fish, big fish and everything in between."

We get to the aquarium around ten. We place them on strollers and walk, getting in line for tickets.

"Have you ever been here, Davis?"

"Nope. Looking forward, though. I like fish."

"Yeah."

We let the children walk ahead, chatting and showing stuff to each other. They've got great chemistry, those two. Jamie points to things and explains, Lily asks questions and teases him. There's a couple of sniffles, mostly Lily, but things go along nicely. Lucas and I continue our light flirting. We walk hand in hand for a while, and he embraces me while we look at a huge tank with sharks. I note he's in a pretty good mood overall, but he won't meet my eyes, like he is hiding something.

At one point I'm sitting down at a bench, while Lucas has Jamie on his shoulders and Lily in his arm, looking at a tank of jellyfish. An old woman, with a five-year-old boy that might be her grandson sits next to me, looking at Lucas and the kids.

"Beautiful family. Twins?"

"No. They're cousins, actually."

"He looks like a wonderful father. Which one is yours? The boy?"

"Neither. She is his sister, and he is his nephew. I'm just a friend."

The old woman laughs. "The little ones may not be yours, girl. But the big one certainly is. I've been watching you."

I sigh. "We have a lot of history. It's complicated."

She gets up and smiles. "Life is short, girl. Don't let complicated get away. He looks like a keeper." She walks away.

He certainly is.

We stop for lunch at the aquarium's restaurant. The place in noisy, dirty and the food is pretty bad. Still, the company compensates. The toddlers get fruit compote for dessert, which end half on top of themselves, half on top of us, and we can't stop laughing about it. There's a couple of moments where we nearly kiss. Honestly, I'm past caring, but, for some reason, he stops it, which confuses me to no end. I strut around, and do my best to wave my assets in Lucas' face. He is totally game, and keeps me in my toes with verbal innuendo and small caresses that make me tingle all over. I can't really complain. I'm enjoying myself as I haven't in a long time, and, if I read him right, so is Lucas. Even the kids catch our giddy mood and can't stop laughing.

After lunch and clean-up we walk a bit more around the aquarium, stop at the gift shop, where Lily gets a plush Nemo, and Jamie a plush shark, and head to a movie theater complex. They're still showing "Up" at an early afternoon slot, which mostly goes right over the toddler's heads, but it is a lot of fun for us grown ups. We end the day at a little antique carousel, loud music and little horses, which we all enjoy.

Back at the car, the kids fall asleep almost instantly. That gives me the opportunity to ask some questions.

"Broody."

"Yes?"

"What was this?"

"What, today?"

"Yes."

"Two friends enjoying a day together while entertaining a pair of adorable children."

"Friends."

"Yeah, friends. What else? You've been making yourself very clear on the subject for years now. Nothing but friends."

"What about all the flirting?"

"Fun? Between friends?"

"Fun."

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yes."

"Well, so did I."

"I don't understand."

"Look, I've been chasing after you for nearly two years. I opened my heart to you, got it all out there. You turned me down, several times. I've always been skeptical about it, that you're turning me down because you want me to prove to you I'm serious. So, I kept insisting. Last night, when you turned me down yet again, I gave up. I believe you. Even if we love each other, we'll never get back together. So, what's left? Friendship. And fun."

"So, you're playing with me because you've given up?"

He shrugs. "As far as I can see, if I actually kissed you in one of the several moments it seemed we might, you'd just run screaming the other way. Then no more friendship, no more fun."

"All right. I'll buy that. Still, it was quite a change of mood from yesterday. Did anything happen? Did your mother give up moving away?"

"No." He glances at me. "I guess I've been pretty glum. With reason too."

"Right."

"After I left you, I called Lindsay. I wanted to float that idea about children's books to her. During the conversation I opened up to her, for the first time. We talked for hours. In the end we decided to give it a try. She's flying to Tree Hill next week, and I'm taking her on a date."

As he speaks, my heart shrivels. Of course. It was bound to happen, eventually. Push anyone away long enough, and, at some point, they leave. It's just our miserable timing that exactly when I'm getting tired of pushing him away, he gives up. I get angry, but it's mostly at myself. This time, it's not his fault, in any way. This time I was the one breaking my own heart.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – Tuesday, May 5th, 2009. New York City

The alarm goes off, and I wake up to a splitting headache. As I reach out to hit snooze, I notice I'm not alone. It's a broad, hairy back, and it's beginning to move. Shit. Who's this guy? My head is fuzzy... last night, a business meeting that went too late, a bar for a few drinks. Jokes. Laughter. Did I pick up someone at the bar? I must have. My head, damn! I pad to the bathroom, gingerly, not to disturb too much the needles behind my eyes. The guy sits up, obviously hung over, and stares at me. He is not bad looking. Strong features, receding hairline, deepset brown eyes, early forties.

"Mornin'. I'm Mark."

"Brooke. I'm going for a shower. Please, leave before I get out. "

He looks into my eyes for a second and nods. "Have a nice life, Brooke."

"You too."

I take a couple of excedrin with a glass of water, and a long, stinging hot shower. Thankfully, Mark is gone when I get back. I check the wastebasket near the bed and I breathe a little easier, when I see the two used condoms there. There's a card on the table. " _Mark Anthony Sheppard, Senior VP, JPMorgan Chase._ " In the back, a cell phone number and a message. " _Call, If you wish._ " Hm. A fairly high grade of mistake, I suppose. I drop the card in the basket.

After two mugs of coffee, a tall glass of orange juice and a bowl of granola and greek yoghurt, the headache recedes, and I begin to feel my thought processes moving again. Why did I do that? I thought my days of drinking myself into a stupor and one-night-stands were long behind me. Not good. I check the time. Nine. Good lord!

"Millie?"

"Brooke! What happened? I heard you stayed at the bar, talking to some guy when the people from the office left. When you didn't show up this morning I was really worried."

"Sorry. What does my schedule look like?"

"You had a nine o'clock with your mother and the finance people. I pushed it for tomorrow. She is furious, by the way. You still have legal at ten, some sort of legal settlement for a breach of contract by one of our suppliers and the cosmetics division at eleven. A report on the release of the men's line."

"Can you clear my agenda for the day?"

"Of course. I'll reeschedule for next week. What should I tell your mother?"

"Head cold. I'll be in tomorrow at the usual time."

"All right. Bye."

"Thanks. Have a nice one."

I call Bollard's, a very nice spa midtown, and arrange for a full treatment. If I'm going to turn my life around, I might as well start right. I take the elevator down, and Jason is outside, waiting for me with the door open. He looks concerned.

"Good morning, Jason."

"Good morning, Miss Davis. I hope all is well."

I can't imagine what he witnessed last night. "Just fine. The family?"

"The youngest had a touch of fever last night. The wife stayed home with him today."

"I hope he gets well soon."

"I'm sure he will. To the office?"

"No. Bollard's Do you remember..."

"Of course, m'am."

Bollard's is a full treatment spa. It begins with dry sauna, a mud mask, manny pedi, skin conditioning, depilation, more skin treatment, hair styling, more molecular pampering, all served with a cloud of low calorie snacks and vicious gossip. Just what the doctor ordered for a hungover, somewhat depressed fashion diva. Five hours later I leave a grand poorer and with a slight spring in my step, and gloriously pretty on the outside. Now it's time to lift up the spirits with a little retail therapy.

I walk up Fifth Avenue. I'm enough of a celebrity among the fashion-conscious to warrant some noise at several stores. I take pictures with people, sign CoB catalogs and drop about twenty grand in several stores. A beautiful white leather Kors, four inch red Manolos, a pair of obscene Old Religion shorts, tank tops, some nice high-end lingerie and a dark blue Valentino that looks like a second skin, just nicer. It's a little past seven when I call Jason to pick me up.

He helps me with the bags. "Home, Miss Davis?"

"No. Seventy-second and Fifth."

He lifts an eyebrow. "Very well m'am."

I walk down the steps, asking myself what exactly I am doing here. Wallowing in regret? I spent the whole day trying to lift my spirits, after its dismal beginning, just to end up here? I walk slowly around the fountain, and there he is. Sitting with his legs open, elbows on his knees and hand behind his head, looking down and brooding like there is no tomorrow.

I walk slowly to his side and he lifts his eyes. He smiles, gets up and engulfs me on a hug that seems to erase for a second all these past months of misery. He lifts me off my feet and twirls me around, laughing. I hold onto him for dear life. The meaning of our meeting here, on this precise date, after nearly six months without exchanging a word, is not lost to either one of us.

I knew it already, and seeing him here just confirms it. I screwed up. I don't think he knew it for sure until this minute, but I know he realized it the moment he saw me. He screwed up too.

He sets me back on the ground, the huge smile still on his face. "Damn, I missed you!"

I respond with a small smile and a light caress on his face. "I missed you too."

Our eyes meet, and, for the first time in years, I'm not hiding. I'm tired, and I'm sick to death of my own stupidity. I'm letting him see both the pain and the love I still feel for him, despite everything. And I see what I feel reflected in his eyes, clear as day.

He smiles "We're such a pair of romantic idiots."

I smile. "You got that right." I'm not really hungry, but I wouldn't mind sitting down at a quiet place and talking. "You hungry?"

"Not really. Wanna sit somewhere, have a glass of wine and talk?"

"Sure."

We walk hand-in-hand out of the park. "You're looking really gorgeous, Brooke. Like, glowing. You pregnant?"

I giggle. "Not pregnant. I spent most of my day on a spa, getting pampered. What you're seeing is the end result. But thanks anyways. You look tired."

"It's been pretty intense lately. I just handed in the manuscript of my second book, and basketball season ended two weeks ago. I still have a creative writer seminar I've been running, plus a couple of classes. I should be done in two weeks."

"You're living in Raleigh?"

"No. I bought my mom's old home. I live in Tree Hill, and manage Tric. I closed Karen's Cafe a couple of months ago."

"Oh. That's really sad."

"Without my mom the place lost it's heart. Deb was running it, but she wanted the time to spend with Jamie. And it was too much for me."

"How are your mom, Andy and Lily?"

"Still traveling the world. Mom and Andy are very happy. But Lily and me? That was harsh. I got into a bad funk. Linds really saved me."

That should have been me. "You're with her?"

"Yes. She's a good girl, Brooke. We've become close even before dating, and she's been good to me..."

"But?"

"You know I'm settling. She's not you."

I smile. "So? End it."

He looks into my eyes. "Things sure have changed in the past few months."

I think back to this morning. "I've been letting myself down lately. In more ways than one. It's time to shake things up."

We get to a small Italian place near the park. We sit and ask for a bottle of Chianti and some appetizers. I play with his fingers, like I used to do, and his eyes brighten. "I'll do it. But I have to let her down gently."

"That's fine, Broody. I'm not going anywhere. What about the other Scotts? What's up?"

"Well, Nathan had an amazing season again this year. There is a lot of pressure for him to abandon school and go for the draft now."

'What is he going to do?"

"I think he'll stick it out another year. I know that's what Hales wants..."

"And he'll do whatever Tutormom wants."

"Right."

"Do you know what you're going to do after you graduate?"

"The plan is to stay in Tree Hill and write. For basketball, I can stay with the Tar Heels as an assistant, maybe try for head coach of a smaller college or Tree Hill High. They've been doing very badly since we left."

"What about the children's books?"

"That's actually next. I need an illustrator, though."

I think about it. Maybe? It's for Jamie and Lily... "Do you think I could try it?"

"You?"

"I can draw." My enthusiasm grows as I think about it. "I told you I need to shake things up. Maybe trying my hand at something new would do it." Specially doing it with my Broody.

"I think I'd really like enjoy working with you." He looks pensive. "Funny."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing."

"C'mon, Broody. Spill."

"I'm going to regret saying this. It would have been very natural to partner with Peyton as an illustrator." I wince when he mentions her. "Sorry."

I give him a level stare. "But..."

"I suspect you'll do much better at it than she could, at least for younger children."

"Her imagery is too dark, isn't it?"

"Yeah. If it was graphic novels for young adults, sure. But for a younger audience?"

"No freaky, depressing stuff."

We both laugh. "I love you, Brooke Davis."

"And I love you right back."


	8. Chapter 8

**June 22nd, 2009. New York City**

I get into my office at my usual time, caramel latte in one hand, handbag in the other. I'm wearing loose fitting black silk shorts, black miniboots, a white silk button down blouse with a lot of buttons undone, and a bright red lace bra underneath. My hair is chanel cut shoulder length, combed straight, tinted a reddish honey, with crimson tips. I've taken up this new look, as part of my "shaking things up" plan.

I check my messages. For the third time these past weeks, my one-night-stand Mark called, probably to ask me out again. I met him for the second time at a business occasion, where his bank was pitching a restructuring of some of the Holding's lines of credit. He stayed quiet during the meeting, approaching me at the end, just to ask me out. I turned him down gently, as he did seem like a nice guy. He called a week later and I took it, thinking it might be about business. It wasn't.

I buzz Miranda. "Miss Davis?"

"No more calls from Mr. Mark Sheppard. From JPMorgan."

"Yes, m'am. Anything else?"

"Not for now."

As I'm settling with some paperwork from legal, Victoria barges into my office, uncalled, unnanounced and unwelcome.

"Good morning, Brooke."

"Go away, mother. I'm busy."

"That's what I thought, until I heard about you clearing your afternoon for Lucas Scott."

I giggle. "No privacy..."

"I'm your CFO. I'm supposed to know what's going on." She glares at me. "So, what's going on?"

"Well... I have a little personal project with Mr. Scott. Your snooping apparently didn't uncover the full story. I've cleared all afternoons this week for Mr. Scott and our little project." She keeps staring at me, hoping I would add something. "You know, I do have a lot of work to do. Would you mind doing something useful, like going outside and checking if you can scare the pigeons with your mean stare?"

For the first time since we started this new "relationship" of ours, she actually cracks up a bit. She mumbles to herself. "She is certainly original." I nearly give her a hug, but I control myself in time.

What I do is even more unusual. I open up a crack.

"I've been in a personal and creative rut, mother. My personal life is crumbling, and my designs have been, let's say, uninspired. Lucas suggested a joint project a few weeks back that got my designer juices flowing for the first time in months. That's what we will be doing this week. I'm illustrating a young children's book he wrote."

She sneers in contempt. "Children's book!"

I smile. "I'm the creative heart of this company and I'm telling you. I need this. That Lucas himself shakes my world a bit, that is just an added bonus. I need that too. Besides, I'm pretty sure it won't hurt my image."

I seem to have gotten through to her. Suddenly, she seems thoughtful. "All right. You may have a point. It would certainly provide great optics, you at a book signing with a bunch of little brats. Shouldn't marketing get involved?"

I laugh. "Better see if we can produce something worth bragging about first."

"Very well. I assume he'll be staying at the penthouse?"

"As far as I know, he's staying with his girlfriend."

She lifts an eyebrow. "Really?"

I shrug. "Yup."

"I'll see you later, then."

"Don't wait up."

"Bye."

A few minutes past noon Miranda buzzes. "Mr Scott."

"Send him in."

He gets in and checks me out for a second. "Wow! I love the new look."

"Well, thank you, Broody." He, on the other hand, is looking tired and crumpled. "You're not looking so hot. What's up?"

"I'll catch you up in a second. Let's do lunch first." He opens his backpack and pulls out a plastic bag. He grabs two cardboard boxes and two cups. "Shrimp pad thay and Jasmine tea" and back at the backpack, a small paper bag. "And chocolate chip cookies."

We sit down, I sip the tea, and start on the noodles. "So?"

He looks down, looking sad. "It's not good." I know I'm not going to like this. "Last time we met, I agreed I would end it with Lindsay. I wanted to do it slowly, so I started distancing myself from her. A couple of weeks later, we were going to spend a weekend at her family cottage at the Hamptons. I was going to drop the hammer there. When I got there, her parents were there as well, and both Lindsay and her mother were very upset. You remember her father Sean?" I nod. "He explained it. His doctor found a mass on his liver. Advanced stage cancer. He's supposed to have three to six months left. He had just told his wife and daughter about it, and he was hoping I could help Lindsay cope."

"Shit. I remember him well. He's a nice guy, and he thinks the world of you."

"I love him, Brooke. He's really been an amazing friend and mentor to me. Lindsay has always been daddy's little girl, and she is devastated. Her mother is useless, stuck in her room, stuffed with pills. There's a brother, but he lives in Colorado, and he doesn't get along with the rest of the family.

For the past month, I've been living in Sean's brownstone, trying to keep Lindsay from completely falling apart, and helping Sean and Lindsay to prepare the publishing house for the transition in management. Whatever was supposed to happen between the two of us is obviously put on an

indefinite hold. And this is killing me too."

I place a hand over his, and capture his sight. "I'm so sorry, Broody. I only talked to him once, for fifteen minutes, but I knew I wanted to know him better. He made an impression.."

"He's asked about you a couple of times. I guess you made an impression too. Would you come and visit him? He could certainly use a little Brooke Davis in his life right now."

"I'd be happy to do it. So, are you in any condition to carry out our little project?"

"To be honest, our project has been keeping me sane this past month. I hope you'll still want to put up with me."

I can't deny I'm disappointed. But he wouldn't be Lucas if he could add to Lindsay's heartbreak under the circumstances. Besides I've also been looking forward to working with him. "Sure. Let's get started."

 **June 27th, 2009, Interstate 95, near Baltimore, MD.**

It's a gorgeous day, few clouds in a deep blue sky. We left New York after lunch, with the intention of making it Jamie's party on time. We're driving a spanking new dark blue Jaguar convertible. It belongs to Sean Strauss. He insisted we take it, after we told him about driving to College Park for our godson's third birthday.

This past week has been, well, surprising. Lucas and I finished a first draft of out little book "The crown and the stone" It took us five days of very hard, exhilarating work, from noon till after midnight. Both Lucas and I tend to bury our heartbreak in work, and we are definitely both hurting. We set aside our complicated history, the confusing dance we've been doing around each other, and the complications of our personal lives and set our noses to the grindstone. What came as a total surprise is how incredibly well we work together. Thinking again, it shouldn't be such a surprise. We've always fitted well together, like adjacent pieces on a puzzle. This translated into an amazing synergy doing creative work together, which is turn became a little book that makes me very, very proud.

Aside from the work, I became much better acquainted with the Strauss family. I visited Sean three times over the week. I confess I fell a little for him. He's probably the smartest man I've ever known, kind, generous and wise, with a penetrating wit that keeps you in your toes. I totally get the devastation his disease is creating on the people around him. I only know him a little, and I'm already mourning. I can't even imagine what's going on with Lindsay and her mother. For the first time, I saw Lucas and Lindsay together. The adoring looks she gives my Broody, and how much he really cares about her. It kills me with jealousy, but, for once, I'm not angry. Just sad. We always had a problem with timing.

We tried very hard to pry Lindsay from her father's side. Even Sean insisted that she come with us. But I do understand her not being in the mood to celebrate a three-year-old's birthday.

It's curious that Lindsay displays no jealousy of Lucas with me. She tried to talk to me timidly a couple of times about Lucas and Peyton. I can see that the idea of goldilocks makes her insecure. But, like nearly everyone else we know, she dismisses what Lucas and I have as if it was nothing.

The only people who ever believed were Karen and Keith. And a bunch of fans of Ravens, who, somehow, got it. She takes the friendship we acknowledge at face value and treats me like a long lost sister. I find this utterly disconcerting.

She was thrilled with the little book.

I finally arrive at some sort of understanding with myself.

"Lucas, there's a rest stop a couple of miles ahead. Can we take a little break?"

"Sure."

He parks the car and I turn off the music. It's a shaded area, with tall pines, some picnic tables and a long view of trees and farms to one side. "About us"

He turns and stared into my eyes, a little frown in his face. "Yes?"

"You're with Lindsay for the duration. And we're not going behind her back, even if it's just thinking about it. You give her all you've got."

He hesitates. "I'm not sure, Pretty Girl. We're where we should be and Lindsay..."

"No! We both want to think of ourselves as honest, decent people. We shouldn't begin anything with deception. I've finally found myself trusting you again, despite my misgivings. I want to keep that, even if it ends up costing us our shot. So, you're going to give her your level best."

He looks at the ground and nods. "All right, Pretty Girl. As much as it pains me to admit, I know you're right."

I approach him and give him a kiss in the cheek. I'm not a nice girl. "There's this guy in New York. He seems sweet, and he's been bugging me for a date. I'm going to accept it." The flash of hot jealousy in his eyes makes my heart soar.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

December 2nd, 2009, Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, New York City.

When Lucas called, saying that the machines were off, and Sean was finally resting, I felt sadness and relief. It was a painful struggle, mercifully short by the standards of this awful disease. First a slow decline, as palliatives became less effective, and his strength disappeared. During that time, I became a regular at his bedside. Twice a week, and sometimes on weekends, I would visit. An hour at a time. Light conversation. Business, politics and gossip from the literary and fashion worlds, with a little flirting thrown in. About a month ago his decline turned steep, as he struggled simply to breathe. I still stopped by, even if it was just to hold his hand for a bit.

Maybe it was stupid to get attached to a condemned man. But some of the grace and wisdom I learned from Sean those few months would stay with me for a lifetime.

I set out to go to the memorial service by myself, but Mark insisted to join me, and I couldn't really refuse without an explanation. He knew Sean had become important to me. The simple fact was that I did not want my boyfriend at my side in Lucas presence.

Mark Anthony and I had become an item. We dated for a couple of months, and started sleeping together two or three times a week, and finally became an official couple about the time Sean begun his final decline. Mark is a sweet man, romantic, good looking and kind. At first he was mostly a distraction from Lucas absence, the heartbreak of Sean's illness and my crazy workload. Later I begun to open myself to him, maybe seeing a possibility of a future with him.

The church is packed. Sean was rich, influential and well-liked, and that translates into the crowd here, today. We begun looking for a place to sit, but Lucas saw me, and came to escort me to the front pews, those reserved to family. I introduced him to Mark as an old friend, and Mark to him as my boyfriend. There was no awkwardness. Karen taught her boy impeccable manners. But his eyes looked like ice chips when they met mine.

I was uncomfortable, as if I was pretending to be family, but Lindsay embraced me like a sister, and we cried together. They were aware of my recurring presence at Sean's bedside. From brief encounters, I saw Lindsay sink into a dark hole, and witnessed Lucas' brave struggle to keep her afloat. He was true to his word, and gave her his very best. Lucas and his shining armor, saving yet another girl that wasn't me. It made me both love him more, and hate him a bit. During all this time, we hardly exchanged a word, but still, with brief stolen glances, he let me know he appreciated my presence.

The service was beautiful, and Lucas' eulogy heartfelt and moving. He stood by Lindsay and her family as people lined up to offer their condolences. When it was my turn, Lindsay and I embraced.

"Thank you so much, Brooke. I can't express how much you helped him endure these last few months."

"It was my privilege to get to know him. I'm so sorry, Lindsay." Words falter after that. We embrace, and cry a little. Mark and I walk to the brownstone, and mix with the other mourners there. We get separated, as we find different acquaintances and talk. A couple of hours later I'm thinking of hunting Mark down and heading home, when a hear a familiar voice next to my ear. "Hey."

I feel myself tingling just with his proximity. "Hi, Lucas."

"Thank you. For everything."

I give him a thin smile. "I didn't do it for you."

He shrugs. "I still thank you."

I look at Lindsay. "You've been good to her. As you said you would."

"She is easy to love, Brooke."

"I know. I'm sorry about Mark..."

"About Mark."

"What?"

He pulls me by the elbow into another room, a large hall with paintings on the wall, and a few dozen people, drinking, eating and talking, Mark among them."

"You should keep an eye on him."

I bristle a bit. "What are you trying to say?"

"He's slick, Brooke. He's working the room. Look at him."

Lucas is right. I watch for a minute, as I see Mark moving about, talking to different people and keeping his ears open. Still, his warning annoys me.

"Jealous, much?"

His eyes flash, and his whisper becomes forced. "Of course I am. The idea of his hands in your body..."

My heart skips a beat with his angry tone. I have this flash of him ripping my clothes and having me right here in the floor. I can't breathe. "He is my business, Broody! Stay away."

He smiles. "I know. It's not my place. Just keeping an eye out for you, Pretty Girl." With that, he turns around and I don't see him again. We leave a few minutes later.

December 7th, 2009, New York City.

I'm working on a series of sketches for the Fashion Week show, when intercom buzzes. It annoys me, as Miranda should know better than to interrupt me. "Yes?"

"Mr. Scott is here. He's asking for a couple of minutes." That's odd. Lucas here, without an appointment? "Send him in."

I let him have it with a curt tone. "What is it, Broody? Make it quick. I'm very busy."

He gives me a sad smile, and my irritation dissipates. "Sorry to bother you. This is for you. From Sean."

I stare at him, puzzled. He hands me a wrapped rectangular package and a brown paper envelope, with "Brooke" written across it in a flowing hand script. "What is this?"

"I don't know. He gave this to me a couple of months ago, and told me to give it to you after his passing. I'm just fulfilling his wish." He gets up and starts to leave.

"Wait, Broody. Don't go." I don't want to do this alone. He sits at one of the chairs.

I open the package first. It's an oil painting, not large, about twenty-four by sixteen inches. An abstract, in tones of grey with bits of color. It's both soothing and a little challenging. The signature at the corner stands out. Picasso.

"I can't accept this."

I set the painting down. I open the envelope, and there's several pieces of paper. A legal deed in my name, designating the painting as a living gift. Authenticity papers, registration of the painting in the Picasso catalog. It's called "Violin". And a handwritten note.

" _Dear Brooke. You were a light in the darkness these last few months. You're a remarkable woman, a source of life and warmth, stronger than anyone I've ever met. My regret is that I didn't have time to show you how much I appreciated what you've given me. So, take this painting. I know it's over the top, but the painting means a lot to me. The old goat himself gave it to me. I visited him as a young man, younger than you are now. I spent an afternoon drinking wine, talking and listening to the stories of an amazing person, and, as I was leaving, he gave me this. It has been hanging in my private office ever since. Talking to you always reminded me of that afternoon. I know he would have loved you, and would probably have made you pose for a painting. Hang it where you can see it every day, and think of me. With the wish for an amazing life, Forever yours, Sean._ "

Lucas arms envelop me as I cry. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to.

December 14th, 2009.

I arrive at Mark's apartment past eleven. It was a long, grueling day, and all I want is a long soak, a glass of wine, and some attention from my boyfriend.

He greets me with a smile and a class of wine. "Hey, you look tired."

"It's been a long day." I drop my purse and take off my shoes, tossing myself in his couch. He sits besides me and takes my feet in his lap, rubbing them. It feels good.

It sounds almost innocent. "So, what have you been up to?" I barely manage to catch the little predatory gleam behind the smile. Lucas' warning comes back to me, clear as a bell. I follow an impulse.

"I can tell you, but you have to promise it will be in confidence, and you'll make no use of the information."

He smiles sweetly. "That's fine, Brooke. Trust me."

I smile back. "We've decided to expand our retail network. There's a company called "Daisy Chain" that owns about one hundred points-of-sale, mostly across the south and the southwest. It's a little overextended, and we're setting up a takeover." This is basically true, and the Daisy Chain was seriously considered, but we are doing it in another way.

I finish my wine, and take my long soak. I come to his bed, but I kiss him lightly in the lips and claim I'm too tired for anything else.

December 15th, 2009

I arrive at my office and smile, as I look at the painting hanging behind my desk. Victoria has been trying very hard to find out where it came from, since buying it would have made a noticeable dent in our cash flow. I told her it was personal property, not the firm's, and she's been stewing with curiosity about it ever since. I love torturing my mother.

I place a call to my broker. "Miss Davis?"

"I want you to keep an eye on the stock of a southern retail chain called "Daisy Chain." Inform me of any movement."

"Very well, m'am."

It's half past nine when he gets back to me. "It opened at twenty-five, and it's been crawling up since, for no apparent reason." Damn. I really hoped it wouldn't play like this. Time to be harsh. I personally own about two million shares of that stock. "Watch it. When it reaches thirty-five, unload half my position."

"That's gonna make the stock plunge."

"I know."

"Very well, m'am."

At half past eleven, I get another call. "It's done. The stock is down to twenty-two. You've made about eight million this morning." I know. I and taught someone a harsh lesson.

At one in the afternoon I get a buzz. "Mr. Sheppard is here. He looks upset."

"Send him in. And call security."

He opens the door and walks in. His tie is undone, and he looks dazed. He screams at me. "What did you do, Brooke?"

"A little test."

He screams louder. "You cunt! You destroyed my career! I'll kill you, you hear me? I'll kill you!"

Security arrives and grabs him, before he can get any nearer me. I signal them to take him away, and he goes, screaming curses.

I whisper to myself. "And you failed."

A single tear rolls down my face. I realize someone in my position will always have to be careful about who she allows near. I think back to Lucas and his little warning. With such a small gesture, he fullfills his old promise. He rescues me. I think about him and Lindsay. Like a crazy woman, I talk to myself. "You better enjoy him while you can, bookgirl. Soon, I'll be coming for him. I'll get him back, or I'll go down fighting."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

May 5th, 2010 – New York City

 _... as the kiss deepens, he pulls down the zipper and the dress falls to my feet. He turns me around, nibbling at my neck from behind, sending little jolts of pain and pleasure straight to my core. He pushes me against my desk. He pulls down my panties, caressing my folds with his fingers. I'm wet and ready, arching my back to make it easier. He opens his zipper and frees his member, rubbing it against me, driving me crazy. "Don't tease me, please. I need you inside me." He puts his hands on my hips, taking a firm hold, and slowly penetrates me. I feel him stretching me, filling me to bursting. As he goes in and out I float on a wave of pleasure. "Faster, please! Oh Lucas!" The damn begins to burst and..._ the alarm.

I wake up sweating, with the bed covers all twisted around me, and a hand wedged between my legs. Damned obsession. It's been over four years since the last time I did it with him, and half a dozen guys have been there after him, but he's still the frigging star of nearly every erotic dream I have. Well, today is our fake little anniversary, so perhaps I have an excuse to be dreaming about him.

I go through my routine, half an hour on the stationary bike, half an hour on free weights, stretching, hot shower, dress up and breakfast, orange juice, greek yogurt with granola and fresh fruit and a large mug of coffee.

Downstairs, Jason and his partner David are waiting for me. After Mark got removed from my office issuing death threats, corporate security decided that my driver would have to be an armed bodyguard as well. This would have meant replacing Jason, who is a peaceful soul, and wouldn't hurt a fly. I set my foot down with the head of security, and the solution was to add an armed goon to my entourage. Hence David. They seem to get along, so no harm done.

"Jason, David. Good morning."

As usual, only Jason replies. David prefers to maintain a pose of silent vigilance. I find him rather annoying. "Good morning miss Davis. To the office?"

"Yes. Marjorie and the children?"

"They're fine, miss Davis, thank you."

The elevator opens and Millie is there with a smile and my Latte. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Brooke. Your eight o'clock is already here."

"Great! Send her in."

My eight o'clock is Valentina Caldwell. She's the last piece of a puzzle I've been putting together for a while now. She has an economics degree from Wharton, and a master in finance from MIT. She worked as an investment banker, and, maybe ten years ago, she switched to the fashion industry, first at Zara, then Chanel, and lately as executive Vice-President at Victoria's Secret. She walks into my office and leans across my desk for a handshake. She's a tall platinum blonde, mid-forties, smart gray eyes and a dry, firm handshake. "Good Morning Miss Davis."

"Please, call me Brooke."

"If you'll call me Val."

"All right. Have you studied the details of our proposal?"

She smiles. "No small talk? Yes I've studied your proposal. Very generous."

"So?"

"I'd have to decline. Even if the terms are very generous, I'd be exchanging a position in one fashion giant for the same position in a smaller one."

"Don't you thing Brooke Davis Holdings has the potential to surpass Victoria's Secret?"

"Perhaps. But that doesn't change the fact that you've only had about half their earnings last fiscal year."

"That means we've been about twenty percent more profitable."

"Granted." She rearranges herself on the chair and looks steadily at me. Time to wave the real carrot.

"What I'm going to say next is covered by the confidentiality agreement you signed before we begun this discussion."

"Understood."

"I'm not looking for an executive vice-president for the Holding. I actually intend to step down as CEO in a few months, and I'm looking for a replacement. That's what you're here for."

Her eyes flash, and she smiles. This bit of information is not unexpected. "That changes things a bit. "

"I assumed it would."

She crosses her legs and steeples her fingers. "Do you mind if I ask you why?"

"No. It's simple. I have two jobs for this company, CEO and head designer. I've been working myself to the bone for three years to do both. I want to drop one of these jobs, the one that bores me, and keep the one I really enjoy." I look into her eyes. "But I need my replacement to be someone smart who will keep this company profitable and honest."

"And you think I might be this someone?"

"I hope so."

"The key for keeping this company profitable is the freshness and the broad appeal of its clothing lines. How do you plan on continuing to provide that?"

"I'm planning on joining the design departments of CoB and Brooke Davis Fashion into a little company, called BD Designs. Sixty or seventy employees, mostly designers. It would work under an exclusive contract with the Holding."

"That sounds like a plan, Brooke. There's still some fine print to discuss, but you've got yourself a new executive vice-president." She gets up and extends her hand again. I get up and shake it.

"Very well. I look forward to working with you."

Around eleven my intercom buzzes. "Yes?"

"It's Mrs Davis."

"Send her in."

I receive mother with a broad smile. "Good morning mother. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Good morning. I wish you'd keep me in the loop for critical decisions involving this company."

"I try, mother. What do you have in mind?"

"You're hiring Valentina Caldwell. That's a big decision, Brooke."

"I agree. Talent of that caliber doesn't come cheap."

"But why? We don't need a high powered exec when we have..." Her eyes narrow. "You're quitting."

I smile at her. "Good job."

"Don't patronize me Brooke! Why?"

"I'm not really quitting, mother. I just want to focus on the part of my job I enjoy, which is designing."

She stays silent for a long time, mulling it over. Finally she speaks again. "I could take over as CEO."

"You're very good at what you do, mother."

"Thanks."

"But you're no leader." I let her stew on that for a bit. "I need you to stay on as CFO. Make sure the company stays healthy."

"Will you stay on as Chairman of the Board?"

"Yes." It's just one day-long meeting every quarter, plus a larger meeting once a year.

"Very well, Brooke. When are you stepping down?"

"Six months, give or take."

She gives me a sour look. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"So do I, mother."

I walk down to the fountain a bit past six thirty. Today I want to be waiting for him there when he arrives. I'm wearing a dress I've designed for today, a simple red and white tube dress, low cut, slightly cinched waist, ending at the knees. White three-inch peek-through wedges, a matching wallet and large hoop earrings complete the ensemble. I'm still using my hair loose and straight, Chanel cut, a little longer than shoulder length, with a tint very close to my original dark brown, and reddish highlights. I wait for a few minutes, and he arrives from the west, wearing tan slacks, black leather shoes and a white long-sleeve cotton button-down shirt. His hair is a little longer than I prefer, and artfully messy. As before, he brings a single, long stem red rose.

We greet each other with a tight hug, which ends up with him twirling me around, and both of us laughing.

He sets me down and puts me in the ground, resting his hands lightly on my shoulders. "Looking amazing, Davis."

"You're looking fine yourself, Scott." We sit on the rim of the fountain and he gives me the rose. "Thanks." I smell the rose. "I have a little something for you." I open my wallet and pull a little rectangular box, wrapped on matte black paper, with a tiny red bow.

He smiles as he opens it. He likes receiving gifts almost as much as I do. He just likes to play cool about it. It's a fountain pen. A fancy one, with an engraving of the logo of the Holding. "Wow, Pretty Girl. This is pretty cool. But you shouldn't..."

"It's a thank you gift, Broody. And an apology."

"Why, for heaven's sake?"

"You warned me about Mark. Do you remember?"

"Of course."

"I was pretty snooty about it."

"You were entitled. I was overstepping."

"That's not true. You were just being a good friend. And, as it turns out, You were right."

The flash of pleasure and the satisfied smirk are gone almost before I can see them. He passes his arm across my shoulders and pulls me close. "I'm sorry."

I enjoy the physical closeness. "No harm done. In fact, major harm avoided, in large part due to your warning. So, thanks."

I get up and pick up his hand. "Let's go, Broody. I made reservations."

He blinks as he looks into my eyes. "You did?"

"Sure." I let go of his hand and do a pirouette. I'm happy as I haven't been in a long time, and I am exactly where I want to be, with the person I want to be with. And soon, I'll be free. "Let's celebrate."

He picks up my hand and we start walking towards the east. "Celebrate what?"

"Our little fake engagement anniversary, of course." I skip as I walk, kiss him in the cheek and laugh a little. "And my freedom."

I take him to a little french bistrot midtown. It's romantic as hell, with soft lighting, and a Piaf selection playing on a loop. We sip a velvety bordeaux, as we nibble and I play with his fingers. I tell him about quitting the CEO job in a few months, and beginning to get my life back. I also tell him about Peyton moving in with her producer. He tells me about his second book, which should be released in a couple of months, his impending college graduation and gossip from Tree Hill. He also tells me how Nathan is doing, chosen as the best shooting guard on the NCAA for the second time, and as one of the hottest new prospects in next year's NBA draft. For a while, the one subject we carefully avoid, the monkey in the room, is Lindsay.

Over dessert I decide to break our tacit agreement. "How's she doing?"

He sighs and straightens up in his chair. "Recovering. She's basically moved in with me, spending most of her time in Tree Hill. She is getting back to her work slowly. She told me to say hi, by the way, and that you should come and visit."

I stare at him, both mortified that she is living with him, and surprised that she knew we were meeting. I latch onto the latter, to avoid contemplating the former. "She knows you came to see me?"

"I have an excellent excuse. Our editor is begging for another installment of our book. It seems that ours has been one of the best selling children's book this year."

"I've noticed the fat royalty checks."

"That's right. So, Lindsay, our agent, wanted me to come see you and persuade you to do another."

"I'd love to do another. I really enjoyed it last time."

"I can come the week before Jamie's birthday, just like last year. Then we drive to Maryland."

He looks me in the eyes as he says it. "This time she would be coming with us."

I sigh. The prospect of spending a week locked up with him, working on a new book fills me with joy. It might compensate a bit for being near him and Lindsay together for a few days. And I know he won't be happy about spending Lily's birthday without her for the first time. "All right. I'll make arrangements."

"Do you want to do another adventure with the same protagonists as our first book, or go for a completely different thing?"

I think of our little princess with her brave, impulsive heart and her crazy outfits, and her little knight, protecting her and always getting into trouble. They were supposed to by Lily and Jamie, but we ended up putting more of ourselves into them than we ever planned or intended. "Oh, I don't think those two are done yet. I say we take them on another adventure."

He answers with a huge smile, one that makes my heart dance. "I agree. We take them for a spin again."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

June 26th, 2010, Saturday, New York City.

I just didn't have the heart to steal Jason from his family on a weekend, so David was driving the limo by himself. Corporate security offered me a choice between driving myself, with an escort car, or taking my bodyguard with me, so David and his gun were the lesser of two embarrassments. We stop by the Strauss brownstone to pick up Lucas and Lindsay and head to Maryland, for Jamie's birthday party.

We finished our second installment of the "Princess and the Knight" late last night. It was a little easier than the previous book, basically because we could use again a lot of the artistical decisions from the first book. Still, we took things up a notch, going for more detailed rendering and a more complicated story. As last year, I made three hard copies of our rough draft. One went by overnight courier to the birthday girl, one is wrapped as a gift to our godson and the third copy I placed in our agent's hands as she and my co-author entered the limo.

Last year's easy rapport between us while working on the book went even better this time around. There's a lot unsaid between us, but, while working, we can leave it all behind, and just see this little project growing in our minds and hands. This time I managed to teach Lucas a bit about drawing, and he did a fair job at helping with some of the detail work.

Lindsay reads slowly, studying each page. We're halfway to Maryland by the time she closes it and looks at us. I guess both Lucas and I look at her like schoolchildren waiting for their grades. She smiles, and we both relax.

"I loved it, guys. It's better than the first one." She gives Lucas a little congratulatory kiss and takes one of my hands. "You guys started with something pretty great and took it up a notch. Wow! Your publisher is going to be very pleased."

"Thanks."

"I have several questions to you guys, before I can take this to your publisher. Last time you two didn't know if you would ever do it again, so I negotiated a single book contract. Do you intend to do it again?"

I answer for both of us. "We discussed it. We want to do one more "Princess and the Knight" book, third and last. We'll include some kind of closure for the main characters at the end. We'll probably do more books, just because we enjoy doing it, but it will be other characters and a different story line.

"All right. Promising a third book in writing will probably allow for a much sweeter deal this time around."

"I want to add something. The marketing people from the Holding complained bitterly that they weren't involved with the first book deal."

Lindsay frowns. "Why?"

"They see my name as a brand name, and the most important asset of the Holding. Seeing it on the cover of the book, and not controlling its use, or looking at a penny of the revenue generated, breaks their mercenary little hearts."

"So, what do they want?"

I laugh. "They want the moon. They want to do cross-promotion, start a children's clothing line using the characters as a tie-in, start a toy line, cross-promoted children's fragrance line, TV show... you know, the moon."

Lindsay sits back, pensive. "I should have seen this coming." She closes her eyes for a few seconds, and then opens them again. "Look, my job is to protect your interests as authors. See that you get fairly compensated by the work you did, and make sure you retain as much control as possible over it. I can do Lucas' side of this with no problem. But negotiating with the Holding on your behalf? That's confusing. And then I need to know what you guys want."

Lucas gives me a puzzled look. We didn't discuss this at all, so I'm not really sure about how he feels. I know he is Karen's son, a serious and shrewd businessman. "Look. First, as far as negotiating on our behalf with the Holding, you can treat my interests as identical with Lucas'. Take them for as much as you can get. I'll tell my executive vice-president to negotiate with you without my involvement, and I'll get permission of the Board to do it. About how far to take this, I think we should start small and see how it goes. Maybe just the children's clothing line, with a lump sum for the use of the characters, plus a cut of the revenues."

I look at him and he shrugs. "That's fine with me, Linds." He looks me in the eyes. "I would like to see a portion of the revenue directed to charity. Young mothers and children at risk." He is thinking of his mother, and our own pregnancy scare junior year. I nod in approval.

Lindsay looks at him with her huge adoring eyes. "I'll add that to the mix. Again, congratulations, guys."

I check outside. We're past Philadelphia. More than half-way there. I sit back and keep a discreet eye on Lindsay. It wasn't apparent when we were talking business. She keeps touching Lucas, as if trying to make sure he's still there. Her smiles don't reach her eyes. She is thin and jittery, and there are bags under her eyes, smartly concealed with make-up. It hasn't been six months yet, and it can't be easy getting over the loss of a beloved parent. Specially in such a horrible and untimely manner.

I look at the way Lucas cares for her. There is obvious love and a great deal of patience. My own jealousy is a small needle in my chest. I recognize he's still just doing exactly what he is supposed to be doing, and that I support him on that.

We get to the Scott's around four. Lucas knocks and Nathan opens the door.

We hear Haley's voice from the background. "Who is it?"

"Lucas, Lindsay and Brooke."

"I'll be right out."

Lucas and Nathan do that half-hug thing boys do, then Nathan politely shakes Lindsay's hand.

"Hey, big brother, Lindsay. Great that you came. And you!

He looks at me. And you! He grabs me in a tight bear hug. "I missed you, you crazy girl."

"I missed you too, Hotshot. But I need to breathe."

Haley comes out, a big grin on her face, and it's her turn, as Lucas grabs her in a bear hug.

"Lucas, just put me down!"

"What? I miss you too."

"I know, dork. You just don't need to break me in half."

Haley kisses Lindsay and hugs me as well. "Hey, Tutormom."

"Tigger."

"Where's the birthday boy?"

"In the living room, with Deb."

We go into the living room. I see that Lindsay is a little uncomfortable, the odd man out in a meeting of old friends. Jamie sees us and jumps up. Aunt Brooke, Uncle Lucas! He gives us a hug,

"Hey JLuke! Four!"

"That's right. He stretches to show how grown up he is. I'm four now."

Nathan picks him up and approaches Lindsay. "You remember Aunt Lindsay? Uncle Lucas' girlfriend?"

He gives her a welcoming smile. "Oh, hi." He extends his hand, which Lindsay shakes.

Lucas and I hug Deb, and we introduce her to Lindsay. We all sit in the living room, to chat and catch up. A few daycare friends are coming in an hour, as well as some of Nathan's teammates. After a few minutes, Haley pulls me to their bedroom, for a little best friend gossip.

"I saw the gifts you brought. Did you and Lucas write another one?" I nod. She squeals. "Oh, Tigger! That is so cool! The first one is still his favorite book in the world."

"Working with him is very nice. I think we'll keep doing it every once in a while."

"How's he doing?"

"Well, you can see it. She's still pretty broken up, and he's taking care of her. Her father's death was hard on him, and he still misses Karen and Lily like crazy. But, all things considered, he's doing fine. What about you guys?"

"We'll go where Nathan goes. He's a sure first round draft pick. I'll find a school to teach wherever we go. Of course, I'm rooting for the Bobcats, so we can be near Luke."

"Can I root for the Knicks? I'd love to have you guys around."

She laughs. "Of course, that would be cool too. What about you? What's new?"

"Nothing much. Still living with Victoria, still working like crazy. I had a boyfriend for a while. It didn't last."

"Oh, sweetie. I'm sorry to hear it."

"No biggie. It was never that serious."

"Any news from Peyton?"

"Same. Still living with the producer, still working at Sire records."

She grabs my hands. "I've missed you so much! It's been a whole year. Don't disappear like that again, please."

In a few months I'll be able to quit my CEO job, and I'll have much more time to keep up. "I won't. Promise."

Kids and friends arrive, and the party itself gets under way. Lucas and Nathan go play ball outside with some of the other players and the kids. The women sit around, gossiping about nothing. Haley and I try to keep Lindsay engaged, but, without Lucas next to her she seems to retreat into herself and disappear.

We sing, Jamie blows candles, and opens gifts. As predicted, he makes a big deal out of the new book. A couple of the mothers of his friends come talk to me about the first book, about how much they, and their kids, loved it. At one point Karen makes a video call, and we sing for Lily to blow her candles. I see Lucas' eyes misting and quietly grab his hand as we talk to them. Soon enough people leave. Lucas and Lindsay disappear in one of the guest rooms, and Jamie goes to bed, tired and sleepy after all the excitement of the day.

After a while Lucas comes back down. Lindsay is still taking antidepressants and sleeping pills, and she is down for the count. The four of us still talk for a while, about old times and new challenges. Lucas tells us that UNC wants him to stay after graduation, promoting him to assistant coach, and making his creative writing seminar a permanent. Soon enough Nathan and Haley retire for the night and we are left by ourselves.

The night is warm, clear and full of stars. We head outside and sit in a wooden swing enjoying each other's physical presence without talking. There isn't anything to say. We both know where we stand, and we both know our turn has not arrived yet. We steal a little moment, watching the stars and swinging, his arm across my shoulders, my head against his chest. I think we sleep a little. Suddenly, he is whispering in my ear.

"Hey, Pretty girl."

I startle a bit. "What?"

"I think we fell asleep."

"Shit. What time is it?"

"Past two."

"We better go to bed."

We get up and climb the stairs. At my room's door, we stop and face each other. It takes some serious effort not to kiss him. Instead, we hug and he whispers in my ear. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything. For being here. For being you."

Ah, his sweet words. "Just hang in there, Broody."

"You too. Good night."

"Good night."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

New York City, October 5th, 2010, Tuesday.

The alarm rings at seven thirty. I decide I need some fresh air, so I put on some running sweats, sneakers, pick up a nice music track with a fast beat and go for a run on the Park. Early October weather. Crisp air, pretty colors on the leafs, and a lot of joggers, bikers skaters and walkers on the track. I smile to myself when I get wolf whistles from a work crew. Fifty minutes later, a little weight work, some abs, and it's the shower. Then it's dressing to enjoy my freedom. Black New Religion skinny jeans, loose white chemise with rolled up sleeves over a red tank top, low white wedges and hair tied in a messy ponytail. Very light make-up. Coffee, orange juice and buttered toast.

"Good morning, Jason, David."

Both of them reply. "Good morning, Miss Davis."

"You're looking rested this morning, Miss Davis."

"Family, girlfriend?"

"Wife and children are fine. Sam is done with the flu and went back to school today."

"Girlfriend still giving me the cold shoulder."

"You tried flowers and chocolates?"

"Yes, m'am."

"Do you have a picture, David?"

He finds a three-quarter picture of a pretty brunette with large eyes. "Nice. She's a size two."

"I think so, m'am. Thanks."

I return the picture. "Go to the twenty-eight floor and ask for Patrice. Tell him I said to give you a sample of the light green, spaghetti straps with blue accents. I'm sure that shoulder is going to warm up in a hurry when you give it to her."

He begins to complain. "I'm sorry m'am, its too..."

"You're supposed to take a bullet for me."

"Yes, m'am."

"It's the least I can do."

"Thank you, m'am."

"You're welcome."

My new office is better called an atelier. It's a large, well-lighted room, with several design tables. I'm coordinating a team of designers, and we're putting the finishing touches on the Princess and the Knight children's line. It's been a week since I stepped down as CEO of the Holding. Once I'm done with this, I'll be able to take a vacation. The first in three years.

I leave the office at six, after spending the whole day at the design desk. I'm not even tired. I head home, calling for delivery of some fettutini alfredo with grilled chicken and a small salad. After dinner I sit down with a glass of Chianti and call Haley.

"Hey."

"Hi, Tutormom. How are things?"

"About the same. The doctors said he he could be walking again if he works at it. Instead he drinks, and watches game tapes. Not even Jamie can get him to respond."

"I'm so sorry. I should be there."

"You helped enough during the surgery and the hospital stay, Tigger. You need to take care of your life."

"He is just like Lucas and I. He pushes everybody away when he is hurting. He'll get out of it in time."

"He thinks his life is over. That basketball was all he was."

"Deep down he knows that's not true."

"I can take him hurting me, Tigger. But he's hurting Jamie too. I don't know how long I can take that."

"Remember to tell him that. How's Lucas?"

"He still feels guilty, although I can't see how he could have done anything different. Despite that, Lucas, Lindsay and the boys have been a godsend in helping out with Jamie. Nathan is another story. Lucas is his best friend, and still they just scream at each other."

"Damn." I need to get down there. Soon.

"Yup."

"Patience, Tutormom. This will pass, I promise."

"Thanks."

"I love you. Bye."

"Bye."

To see all your dreams swept away over one moment of childish anger. I totally understand the hole Nathan has dug himself. I focus on Nathan, trying to forget the fact that Lucas and Lindsay are living together in Tree Hill.

It's a little past eleven when the phone rings. "Hey P. Sawyer." I hear her crying. I know she broke up with her producer a couple of months ago, but I thought she was already past the sobbing stage.

"Did anything happen?"

"I quit my job today."

"Oh, sweetie. Why?"

"My boss offered me a choice. Forget my self-respect to get ahead, or not. I chose not."

"Sounds like a good choice. Why are you crying?"

"It's my stupid life. Four years in LA. Two failed relationships, no job, no prospects. I feel like such a loser!"

"Oh sweetie. It's nothing like that. You're young, beautiful, smart, talented and I'm sure you learned a lot about the music business these four years. Maybe it's just time for something new."

"Maybe. I've got nothing left here, Brooke. I'm going home."

"Why don't you come to New York?"

"No. I need to go home. To Tree Hill."

She means she must see Lucas. The silly bitch. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

"All right, I'm coming with you."

"You mean that? What about Clothes over Bros?"

"I'm sure the company can run itself for a while."

Tree Hill, October 11th, 2010. Monday.

We park in front of the Scott residence. It's a modern-style mansion, with a big frontyard and a swimming pool in the back. When we knock, Haley answers it. I mean, the woman who answers it looks like Haley. Tired, sad, looking much older than her twenty-one. She takes one look at me and bursts into tears. I hold her in my arms, while she sobs and talks incoherently. After a few minutes she settles down a bit, enough to talk.

"Where is Jamie, sweetie?"

"Skillz has him."

We walk into the house, to meet a stinky, drunk, disheveled Nathan on a wheelchair.

He slurs a bit, talking loudly. "What are you two doing here? Came to gawk at the crippled loser?" I can see his eyes are fixed on Peyton, and behind the drunken bluster, a little shame lurks, unexpected. The sight of Nathan and Haley in this state makes me incredibly sad. But Peyton, bless her heart, puts her fists on her hips, leans forward and, eyes flashing with anger, starts with. "What the fuck are you thinking Nathan Scott?"

I can see Nathan flinching at her tone. Truth, this is more-or-less what I was hoping for. Self-destructive, drunken Nathan is not someone Haley has much experience with. And I could never stand him like that either. But not Peyton. Peyton knows this Nathan. He makes her angry, not sad or hurt. After they broke up, after Nathan and Haley got married, Nathan and Peyton found a deep friendship, based on a kind of unique mutual understanding. I suspected that Peyton was exactly what Nathan needed right now. "Why don't you go fuck yourself, Peyton?"

"Are you enjoying the self-pity party, jackass?" Peyton turns to me. "Get out of here. Take Haley with you. Come back in a few hours."

I take Haley by the arm and walk her out of there, and to our car. I can still hear the loud angry voices coming from inside as we leave. "Where to?"

"Luke." I imagine that's precisely where she's been running to when she can't stand it anymore. Lucas may be Nathan's brother, and his best friend. But given a hurt Nathan and a hurt Haley, he would be at Haley's side every single time.

We park at Lucas and get out. I notice something that nearly stops my heart. The side door. The one to his old room. It's red again. We knock and he opens up, Jeans shorts, a white wifebeater, no shoes, three day beard and hair longer than I like it. Our eyes meet, and I smile at him, while sliding my hand down on the door. He answers back with a brief smile and turns to Haley.

"Come in. Tea? Something stronger?"

"Tea." Haley replies.

"I'll go for tea also."

He frowns at us. "Nathan?"

"We left him with Peyton."

His eyes flash in surprise. "Peyton."

"Yup. When we left she was reading him the riot act."

Lucas sighs. "Maybe that's exactly what he's been needing." I nod.

While Lucas puts a kettle with water on the stove I ask him. "Lindsay?"

"New York. She'll be back tomorrow evening."

We lose ourselves for a second in each other's eyes. Even lost in herself as she is, Haley notices there's something going on.

"Hey! What's up?"

That snaps us out of it. "Oh, nothing. I guess we're worried about Nathan."

"Right."

Lucas turns to me to ask. "Where are you staying?"

"I booked a room at the Sand's."

"You could stay here, if you don't mind sharing a bed. My mother's room is not in use."

I consider the possibility briefly, but I realize that would be a little too messy. "I don't think so, Broody. Thanks anyways."

"Suit yourself."

We keep talking, mostly trying to distract Haley, and keeping ourselves from being too obvious. Even out of it, Haley knows both of us a little too well. Finally we head back to the other Scott residence, where we find Nathan shaved, bathed and asleep, and Peyton looking at our first book.

"Hey, P. Sawyer."

"Haley, B. Davis." She looks at Nathan. "He's by no means fine. I don't think he's ready to apologize. But you may find him a little less indulgent with the self-pity tomorrow."

"Thanks, Peyton."

"I'll take him to physical therapy tomorrow, if you don't mind. And I think I've emptied and threw away every single bottle of booze I could find."

Haley nods, clear relief stamped in her features. "That's fine. I'll search for hidden booze tonight. Jamie is spending the night with Skillz and Mouth, so I can take care of big baby there."

Peyton looks at Nathan and smiles. "He can be such an idiot. I'd almost forgotten that." She turns to me. "I think we should get going."

"All right."

As we are leaving, Peyton turns to Haley. "Mind if I borrow this?" It's our book.

Haley looks at her and at me. "You didn't know about it?"

"No."

"Very well. But you have to return it."

"All right."

We drive in silence for a bit. Peyton breaks the silence. "It's really good."

"Thanks."

"Did you publish it?" I can't avoid a nervous giggle. "It's sold nearly two million copies worldwide, last I checked."

"And you never told me. We basically talk over the phone once every two weeks for years, and you never told me."

"In all these years talking, there is one word we've never used."

"Lucas."

"That's right. Besides, it isn't exactly a secret. Our publisher made a huge campaign for the release of the second book. It's selling even better than this one. We did TV interviews, radio shows, magazine articles..."

"A second book."

"We're supposed to write a third one. It all started as a gift for Jamie and Lily."

"I've never pictured you as an illustrator."

"I draw for a living."

"How is it? Doing this with him?"

"Peyton..."

She raises her voice. "How is it, Brooke?"

I raise my voice too. "What do you want me to say, Peyton? That I love every second of it? Cause I do. Still, he's with Lindsay."

"Is she ok with it?"

"She's our agent. She's made a ton of money for us and for herself, selling our books."

"God, I'm an idiot. I can't believe how horribly jealous I am of this. The worst is that I know I could never do it. The art is lighthearted and funny, sly and totally you. It fits the rhymed text like a glove. I totally love it. And I can see the love the two of you poured into the work."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Is there anything going on between you and him?"

"No."

"You're lying." She is not stupid.

"He's with Lindsay. He's been with her for two years. I'm not a cheat."

Peyton winces at that. "Sorry..."

I wave my hands. "We're not in high school anymore. If you want to go declare yourself to Lucas, tell him that you made a mistake in that hotel room back in LA, go ahead." I smile. "I'll be curious to hear how he responds."

"Are you still in love with him?"

I make a gesture of dismissal and lie a bit. "In a way. It's none of your business, though. I suggest we leave the subject alone."

"All right. I want to see the second book too."

We check in and order some take out, taking the time to talk about Peyton's plans. She finally opens up enough to mention her dream of starting her own label. We discuss the broad idea and the practicalities of starting a new label right here in Tree Hill. We agree to continue discussing it later. After dinner I decide to go for a walk. Peyton wants to come with me, but I insist I need some time to myself.

I put on a jogging suit and sneakers, and I jog to the beach. It's five miles, and it takes me nearly one hour to get to our spot. It's not a surprise that he is sitting there, looking at the sea.

A little out of breath, I greet him. "Hey, Broody."

"Pretty Girl. What a surprise."

I giggle. "We've become so predictable." I sit on the towel next to him and he grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers.

"How's Lindsay?"

"She's still grieving. It hasn't been a year, and I don't think she'll ever stop missing him."

"I don't think I'll ever stop missing him, and I'm not his beloved daughter."

"But, she's off the pills, she sleeps soundly at night, and she manages to enjoy life again."

I hate that, knowing exactly what it means to enjoy life while sharing a bed with my Broody. "So?"

"I know. Time to let her go. It just seems so cold."

"You've more than fulfilled your promise."

"You mean, to give her everything I had. Yeah, I think I did. It's just hard to turn around now and just dump her."

"You shouldn't do that. She is a wonderful person Lucas. She deserves kindness and respect. But staying with her, letting her think this is her endgame, when we both know it isn't? That's not right either."

"I have the impression that, in some remote corner of her awareness, she knows there's more to the two of us than friends and creative partners. She just tries very hard not to see. That's why she is so nice to you, and she focuses her acknowledged insecurities on Peyton."

"Talk about Peyton..."

"What?"

"She found a copy of our first book at Naley's. It made her very jealous and confused."

"I told you. We poured more of ourselves in those books than we realize. And Peyton has the sensibility to spot it."

I sigh. "Let it play out."

"Right. A bit of Tree Hill drama."

"I'm still half expecting all those old feelings to come right back when you see her."

He laughs and gives me a tingly kiss in the cheek. "You're an ass, Brooke."

"Sure. But I am your ass."

"And a fine ass it is."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Tree Hill, Friday, October 22nd, 2010

I open my eyes to the dust motes dancing on a ray of sunlight. I check the time. It's half past eight.I get up, open the curtains and the balcony doors. The crisp wind smells of iodine and honeysuckle, a sunny late fall Carolina morning, after a long dreamless night. I head to the bathroom, for a quick shower and dress in skinny jeans, a white sweater over a light yellow soft cotton shirt and low white wedges. A bit of make up, and I'm ready to face the day.

Downstairs, Peyton in all set and ready to leave, in her newly toned-down badass style. Low boots, black jeans, a button down white shirt from the man's section at whatever high-end store she shops these days, an embroidered black vest and hair tied in a messy ponytail. "Looking fine this morning, Goldilocks. Love the vest."

She looks at me, smiles and twirls around. "Well, thank you. And good morning to you, Sleeping Beauty."

"A fine morning it is. What's up?"

"I'm meeting Mia at the recording studio this morning. You?"

"Staying in. Gotta finish some sketches."

"Don't forget. Tric tonight. Mia is opening for Jimmy Eat World. Come a little early, around seven, and I'll give you a tour of the office. It's finally looking right."

"You got it. See you tonight."

I made a sunny corner of the ground floor of the house into a little design studio. A large desk with my computer, a drawing desk and a large table with sewing equipment. I dive into my designs, and the rest of my morning goes without me really noticing it.

A knock brings me back to the real world. It's a fast, soft, impatient knock, which tells me exactly who it is. I open the door with a ready smile. "Hey, Tutormom."

She comes in, giving me a hug. "Tigger. I brought lunch. Tuna salad, iced tea and a cookie."

"Oh, wow. Just in time. I'm starving." She gives me a paper bag, which I open, setting places for both of us at the kitchen counter. While we eat, I take a minute to look at her, and I realize she seems, somehow, lighter than I've seen her in a while. "What's new?"

"Nathan is off the wheelchair."

I squeal and hug her again. We knew it was a matter of time, but it is sooner than expected. "Oh, that is so good to hear."

"We're celebrating at Tric tonight. You'll be there, won't you?"

"I wouldn't miss it, specially with Hotshot walking about again. Jamie must be thrilled!"

"You betcha."

"Do you think we could get an impromptu appearence of Haley James Scott tonight? Maybe just one song?"

"It's Mia's solo debut. I'll do it some other time. I gotta get back to school. See you tonight?"

"Of course. Bye."

After Haley's visit and lunch I spend an hour on a phone meeting with the design team in New York, and get back to my designs. It's close to four, and I'm running out of creative steam, when there's a new knock at the door. It's Lindsay.

"Hey, Bookgirl. Long time no see!"

"Got in from New York yesterday. The city is still abuzz with your job switch."

"I couldn't be happier about it. What brings you over?"

"Peyton."

"Still giving you grief?"

"Her tune is changed now. Yesterday she came to tell me..." her eyes track to the wall behind my desk, where I have placed her father's painting. Her face scrunches up, like a hurt three-year-old, and her knees buckle. She cries, silently. I embrace her as I can, I take her to a sofa. She keeps staring at the painting.

"I looked everywhere for it. Eventually I asked Lucas, and he told me daddy had given it away while still alive and of a sound mind. I wanted to buy it back. He wouldn't tell me who had it." She opens up her purse and takes out a checkbook. "How much do you want for it?"

"It's yours if you want it. But I should show you something first." I go around my desk and pick up his letter. "Here. Read it." It takes her thirty seconds to read the letter. Fat tears fall down her face as she folds the letter and returns it to me. Her voice is hollow as she speaks.

"I knew he loved that painting, but I had no idea it was a gift from Picasso himself. He never told me."

"The painting is yours. Take it."

She shakes her head. "I wouldn't dream of it. I'll respect his wish."

"Linds..."

"He loved you."

"He barely knew me."

"Brooke. Did you read that letter? Those last few months... your visits... he lived for them. Until now, I didn't realize it. He loved you." She stops for a minute, looking at the painting. Suddenly she whispers. "They both do." She begins to cry convulsively. I try to hold her, to say something, but she abruptly gets up, stepping several paces away from me. Her face showing anger and dismay.

"Stay away from me"

"Please..."

"Do you realize how alike they were? When I got to know Lucas, that's one of the first things I noticed. The way their minds worked, going in circles after a hidden truth, and their joy in uncovering it. Their fierce protective instinct. Their gentleness. You should have seen them discussing. Literature, music, history... like kindred spirits. Lucas was closer to him than his own son."

"I can imagine it."

"Is it a surprise? You loved both of them. And they both loved you. One of them still does."

"I don't know..."

She raises her voice. "Don't lie to me!" She sits back at the sofa. "Have you two been cheating on me?"

"No. Not once. Not a kiss. Nothing" Just a two-year platonic affair, right out of a Victorian novel.

She lifts her head and looks at me. "I couldn't have survived this past year and a half without him."

"I know."

"I can't even be angry. Not really. What you did for daddy those last few months... Who willingly gets attached to a dying man? And Lucas. He was perfect. Perfectly devoted, perfectly loving. I love him so much." She shakes her head. "But he is not mine, is he?" By a herculean act of will, she pulls herself together. She looks at the painting, and regains her composure. "I'm done here. But I'll tell you one thing. Peyton has been very persistent. She wants Lucas back, and she can be pretty scary to anyone who stands in her way."

I actually laugh at that. "I know."

"Well, recently, she has been carrying around the two Princess books. She came to me this morning looking for an ally. She told me that the real threat, the cunning bitch who is trying to steal Lucas is you, not her. She's convinced that the books prove her case. I laughed in her face, and I came here to talk to you about it. For some reason, you and Lucas together is intolerable to her. If she can't have him, She would much rather he stays with me.

I look her in the eyes, and I feel a single tear rolling down my face. "Thank you." I get up and hold her hands. "Peyton is more sister than friend to me. And you know how bitter these things can get between sisters..."

I look at myself in the mirror. Hair artfully falling to my shoulders in soft curls. Midnight blue dress with silver accents, above the knee, with an empire waist emphasizing my breasts. Silver four inch Jimmy Choos. I drive down to Tric, arriving close to the time Peyton suggested.

I see her helping with lighting placement, dressed as she was this morning. I squeezes my heart, looking at her, larger than life, right where she belongs. She started this club, six years ago. I recall a party for a recently married couple, organized by three awkward friends. I approach her, speaking softly. "Hey, P. Sawyer."

She turns to me, talking loudly. "B. Davis! Will you give me five minutes? You can wait for me at my office." She points to a double door to a side, painted with the Red Bedroom logo. Before I go there, I stop at the bar. A handsome man with a kind face is doing prep work behind the counter. He smiles at me as I approach. "Hi. I'm Brooke."

"And I'm the barman. We're not open yet."

I pout, and his smile deepens. "What's your name, handsome?"

He meets my eyes, openly flirting. I feel an unusual little spark of interest. "Owen."

"It's nice to meet you, Owen. Do you think I could have a shot of Patron, just to wet my lips?" I touch a finger to my lips as I say it. He seems a little lost for a second, so I continue. "I'm an old friend of the house."

He laughs. "How can you be an old anything?"

"I was precocious. It's true, you know? I helped with the decor for the inauguration of this place."

He picks up the bottle of Patron and a shot glass, filling it to the brim, and he pushes it to me. "For old-time sake, then."

I down the shot in one swift movement, setting the glass down at the counter. The fire goes down my throat, soothing and welcome. I nod at him, and he fills the glass again. I give him a full smile. "Thank you." I down the second shot, smacking my lips in an air kiss at the end. "I guess I'll see you later."

"I guess so."

I feel his eyes following me as I walk away. I suppose I haven't lost my touch, after all.

I let my eyes take in the space. A reception area, with a little desk, separated from the office by a wood and glass partition. The main area, tall ceilings, exposed aged brick, large windows. The pool table with red baize, an antique desk, old leather sofa with a coffee table. The vinyl record covers behind the desk. A large reproduction of the benefits cd cover to one side, a couple of guitars. It's beautifully arranged, funky and welcoming, arranged with a loving artist's eye. I'm still taking it in when I hear the door closing behind me. "It's amazing, P. Sawyer. I love it."

"I'm proud of it too, Brooke. Thank you. It wouldn't have been possible without your help."

"I'm glad I could do it. I believe in you." I turn around, and she is standing fifteen feet from me, tense and unhappy. I smile at her. "Lindsay came to see me today. She told me what you've been saying."

"Am I wrong? Have you been cheating on her?"

My smile deepens. "You know I wouldn't do that."

She looks to the ground. "Those books..."

"You're not wrong. But we haven't actually done anything."

She smiles, relishing the confirmation. "He's staying with her."

I make a dismissive gesture. "I don't know if Lucas knows it yet, but she is out of the picture."

I see the shock in her eyes. "What?"

"You heard me."

She looks defiant. "This doesn't mean..."

"That he will be with me? No." I giggle. "I told you before. Lay it all on the line. Give it your best shot. Tonight."

"Why tonight?"

I shrug "No reason."

She turns around, walking out fast. I raise my voice to her back. "Whatever happens, P. Sawyer. Don't forget."

She opens the door and turns to me. "What?"

"That I love you. Always will."

She mumbles as she closes the door. "I love you too."

People come to watch the show, a full house. Mia's debut is beautiful, but it comes with a problem, as a former bandmate turns psycho at her, and is removed. Afterwards, we watch Jimmy Eats World, a wonderful show. Lucas and Lindsay come early. They are stiff together. Clearly they had already broken up, and Lindsay came just to say goodbye. I park myself in front of Owen, drinking slowly and flirting with the handsome barman, waiting. We toast to Nate's recovery and Mia's debut. At one point, an icy whisper sends shivers down my spine. "Owen? Really?" I love a jealous Lucas.

"So? He's handsome and nice."

"Lindsay and I are done."

I turn to face him. "So?" He squirms adorably.

"Brooke..."

I interrupt him, turning my back. "There's a blonde ex-girlfriend of yours looking for you." Indeed, Peyton is marching towards us.

"No sudden recurrence of old feelings yet, you imp."

Peyton grabs Lucas by the hand and drags him to her office. "I need to talk to you, Luke." He follows.

Owen cleans the bar in front of me. "Ex?"

I smile. "Maybe."

"Another?"

I get up and follow the pair of blonde beanpoles to the office. "Nah. I'll be back."

I peek at the two blondes talking through a slightly open door. I can't make what they're saying above the noise from the bar, though. Peyton is tense, jumpy, and Lucas is coiled, but watchful, not angry. They stand about two feet apart. Suddenly she jumps at his lips, grabbing his head with both hands. He doesn't kiss back. He calmly puts his hands on her shoulders and pushes her back. I rush out of the office, back to the bar. I can hardly contain my joy. Finally.

Three minutes later, Peyton rushes out of the office, crying, and takes off. I continue to flirt with Owen, as Lucas passes behind me, and, with a dirty look in my direction, leaves as well.

I get up, stretch over the bar counter, to give Owen a kiss in the cheek. "Thank you for the company, handsome."

He looks at me with a smile. "I can see you're trouble, Brooke."

I flip my hair coquetishly and laugh, as I leave. "You have no idea."

I drive home, where everything is dark. I assume Peyton went to Mia, or Haley, or to the devil himself, for consolation. I pick up a small travel bag I had prepared earlier and leave a note at the kitchen counter.

 _"Out of town, to run a few errands. Tell Haley everything is fine. Come back soon. Love, Brooke"_

I drive to Lucas home, barging in through the red door without knocking. Lucas is sitting on his bed, legs apart and elbows on his knees, hands at his head.

"Hey, Broody. Busy?"

He looks at me, tired and annoyed. "What are you doing here, Brooke? I'm tired. Go play with your bartender."

I slap him at the back of the head. Hard.

"Ouch! Hey, what was that?"

"Just testing the echo. Grab your passsport, your toothbrush, your computer and a change of clothes."

He gets up and looks into my eyes, noticing I'm almost exploding with joy. He smiles. "What did you do, Pretty Girl?"

I make a dismissive gesture. "Plenty of time to talk on the way. C'mon, let's go."

He grabs a backpack and begins to comply. "Where are we going?"

I giggle. "How's your French?"


	14. Chapter 14

Paris, Saturday, October 23rd, 2010.

I wake up with the jolt of the airplane wheels touching the ground. I'm stretched in a leather sofa, head resting on a pillow and covered with a thin blanket. I'm wearing one of Lucas' t-shirts and panties. I ache, here and there, probably because of the less-than-ideal sleeping arrangements. A bit of a hangover completes the picture. I look around. "Lucas?"

His voice responds from somewhere in the back of the cabin. "Brooke? You're awake?"

"Back among the living."

"Do you want some breakfast?"

I stretch, and my stomach growls. We both laugh. "That answers your question. What time is it?"

"It's four in the morning. Ten back in Tree Hill." He looks towards the back to the plane. "Affirmative for breakfast."

The voice of our flight attendant replies from the back. "Coming."

"Did you sleep at all?"

"No. I couldn't. I'm still processing last evening."

I sit down. "We were supposed to talk..."

"There's no rush, I think." He smiles at me. "How long are we staying in Paris?"

"Do you have anywhere you need to be?"

"No."

I give him a full smile. "Indefinitely, then."

He stares at me, processing it for a few seconds, and then smiles back. "Hemingway, Faulkner, Steinbeck..."

"What?"

"American writers who spent significant time living in Paris. Where are we staying?"

"The company owns a nice apartment on the Sixieme. Have you ever been to Paris?"

I see him retreat into himself a bit. "A couple of days, a few months ago. I did a short European book signing tour with..." He looks a little lost.

"Broody."

He snaps out of it. "What?"

"I know you need some time." He nods his head, gratitude in his eyes. "Let's just take it one day at a time."

He gathers himself and looks into my eyes. "Just a little time. We need to get this right."

The next two weeks are a vacation. We sleep in, shower and go out. We eat in small cafes when hunger strikes. We drink too much wine. We shop for a whole wardrobe for both of us, explore museums and churches and bookstores. We enjoy the nightlife, dancing, jazz clubs, ballet. Lucas finds a basketball court, and joins a couple of pick-up games. He can't play for long, but he still moves with fluid grace and can always find the basket. And we flirt.

Slowly, the Lindsay cloud lifts from his mind.

It's early afternoon. and we're walking slowly along the river. It's sunny and cold, the path nearly empty and the trees have lost all their leaves. His hand is warm on mine.

"So, I think you've seen enough. What do you think? New York or Paris?"

"Right now? Paris, of course."

"Because we are here?"

"Because you are here."

I smile. "Hmm. Seriously."

"Seriously? I've spent a lot of time in New York since that night. But I've never really had the opportunity to enjoy it with you."

"You can do better than that."

"All right. Let's see... New York is more vital, more diverse, but cheaper. Money over taste. Paris is older, a little tired. Pretentious, conformist but more elegant. Paris is beautiful, New York, interesting. Both are worth visiting, but I would prefer to live here."

That last surprises me a bit. "I would have thought that just the language..."

"Would swing my opinion the other way? No. I think that's easily remedied. It's just that I think that the rhythm here is better suited for writing."

I stop walking, and turn around, facing him, holding both his hands. "So."

"What?"

"Wanna buy a house?"

He looks into my eyes, trying to figure out if I mean it. "Are you serious?"

"Oh, yes."

"Aren't we skipping a few steps?"

I've been patient. I've given him enough time. "Which steps?"

"This one, for instance." He comes closer, capturing my lips. It starts soft, tentative, but soon we're glued together, in a searing kiss. I moan into his mouth. He gets me.

"Let's go home, Boyfriend?"

The happy smile shows how much he likes his old nickname. I get him too. "Let's."

Next morning, I wake up naked in his arms. I don't think I've ever felt this safe, happy and satisfied in my entire life. I came four times last night, two of those staring straight into his eyes as he came. Such a nice coincidence, that the love of your life just happens to be the best lover you've ever had, and your best friend. I giggle to myself and look up, and he is just looking at me, a soft smile in his face. "That's a nice noise."

"You might as well get used to it." I giggle again.

His smile deepens, and he reaches to me for a kiss. Soon he's is on top of me, kissing and finding his way inside me again. That's what I call a good morning.

The following week, we spend in our bed. And in the tub, the living room sofa, the dining room table, kitchen counters, an antique desk, against a wall or just plain standing up in the middle of the living room. We run out to eat and we run right back. We begin to talk, and make plans for our new life.

Lucas enrolls in a French class at the American University, and very soon finds himself lecturing a creative writing seminar there. I find office and atelier space and begin to assemble the Paris offices of Brooke Davis Designs. And we begin our househunting.

"Brooke, I'd like to split the cost of our house with you."

I look at him a bit sideways. "How much can you afford?" I know he's far from destitute. With two best sellers, the two Princess books, and movie rights, he's certainly sitting in a tidy bundle.

"Maybe a couple million euros?" I nod. "I'm sure we can find something really nice for twice that."

"Yes we could... but."

"What?"

"I'm a billionaire, Lucas. Well, very close to that."

He frowns, and puts his hands in his pockets. "I knew you were rich..."

"We are rich, boyfriend. When we got together, you didn't just get my heart and my steaming hot body. You got my bank account as well."

"But..."

"We're looking for something we can afford, Lucas. We."

"That means forget the price. Just find something we like. I get it." I can see he's not entirely happy with the idea.

I grab his hands. "Lucas. I need you to understand this. Everything I am, and everything I own, I owe to you. I swear, the drunken slut I was before you would not own a large company."

"You're selling yourself short, Brooke Davis. You've always had greatness in you."

"Maybe the potential. But I learned self-respect from you. And without that..."

I can see he's struggling. I let him brood, and after a couple of minutes, he pulls himself together and smiles. "I'm not going to let my stupid pride get in the way of our happiness. You say it's our money. I say I'll enjoy having you as my sugar mamma"

I give him a full smile. "It's our money, Boyfriend. And I'd love to be your sugar mamma"

"Then let's find something we like."

We choose a four-story eighteenth-century mansion in the eighth _arrondissement_. Nine and a half million euro. By early December we've moved in, properly christened all fifteen rooms, and we have settled into a work-and-play routine that makes us both very, very happy.

Naples, Sunday, December 19th.

We fly commercial from Paris to Naples, and we take a cab to the Marina. A little searching, and a few questions in high school Italian finds us where they are docked. The Sea Lily is an eighty-foot yacht. It looks pretty impressive on the outside, all clean white fiberglass and details in varnished wood. As we approach we can hear the thin voice yelling. "They're here, they're here!"

We meet Andy first, right at the top of the gangplank. He embraces us both. "Lucas, Brooke. It's so good to see you."

Next Lily runs down the stairs, jumping on Lucas arms and screaming. "Lukie!"

Lucas twirls her around as he hugs her. "Lily Bear. I've missed you so much!"

I exchange a glance with Karen, as she walks down the stairs. Both of us cry a little with the siblings' reunion. We embrace too. "Oh, Karen. It's been so long."

"I'm so happy to see you, sweetie. And together! Let me look at you." She pulls me away a bit. "Such a beautiful, accomplished woman. Happiness looks good on you."

"That's your son's doing."

Lucas lets go of Lily and embraces his mother. "Hey, mom."

"Hello, son. I was sorry to hear about Lindsay, but you certainly seem to have bounced back well. I have a million questions, but let's install you in your cabin first, and we can get together and chat over lunch."

As we head under, Lily grabs me by the edge of the shirt. "Brooke."

I squat in front of her. "What is it, sweetie?"

"Are you Lukie's new girlfriend?"

"Yes I am."

She gives me a hug. "Be nice to him, please."

"Oh, I will, honey. Don't worry."

We sit down at a table outside, and Karen brings out a homely meal with a pot roast, mashed potatoes and green beans, a favorite of Lucas. As usual, it's heartwarming and delicious. After we are all served, Karen takes her seat.

"So, tell me. What happened with you two, and what's going on?"

"Well... about what happened, let me try for the quick version." Lucas looks at his mother. "Brooke and I have been in touch for a while, and we knew we wanted to get back together. However, this only became clear after I was dating Lindsay, and with everything that happened with her father, I couldn't leave her. So, we've been waiting, and a couple of months ago, Lindsay and I broke up, and soon after Brooke and I were back together."

"I'm glad you stood by Lindsay."

Lucas nods and grabs my hand. "We have no regrets."

"So, what are you two doing in Paris?"

I reply. "We've decided to live there permanently." I look at Lucas and smile. "Apparently it's a good place for inspiration, and for designing fashion. So, we bought a house. We'd love it if you came to visit."

"What about Tree Hill?"

"We have a house there, and we will probably spend a few weeks there during the summer. We need to stay in touch with Nathan, Haley and our godson. What about you guys? Lily is going to school soon."

"We're going to live in New Zealand. This means Lily only begins school the year after next."

"Can we meet in Tree Hill for their birthday?"

Karen and Andy exchange a glance. "Sure." Karen sighs. "Look, I know we've been bad about keeping in touch, but this will end." Karen looks at her daughter. "Lily will come to visit, maybe even for extended periods, as her schooling allows. Do you want to learn French, honey?"

Lily rolls her eyes. "Always with learning. Can't I do something fun, for once?"

I turn to her to ask. "Like shopping?"

Her eyes brighten. "Yeah!"

"Paris is great for shopping."

Lily squeals and claps her hands. "Can I go to Paris, mom? Can I?"

Now it's Lucas who rolls his eyes and sighs. "Oh, boy. More bags."

We all laugh.


	15. Chapter 15

AN: Final chapter. This was fun to write. I've been reading a lot of Gossip Girl fics, specially the Dair ship. I'm tempted in writing a companion story to this one, where Lucas first meets Blair and Dan in New York, during their "friendly" fase, making this story the background and fitting it in the large time gaps. For example, maybe Dan and Blair encouraged Lucas to look for Brooke one year after the fake engagement. Later Lucas and Brooke meet Blair and Dan again in Paris, when she is engaged to the Prince. I'm curious how awful Brooke and Blair would be initially and if they could end up friends. There's also Jenny and Brooke, Victoria and Eleanor... What about Nathan punching Chuck Bass after he makes a pass at Haley? Let me know... For now, I don't own anything related to OTH. Thanks for the kind reviews and the attention.

Chapter 15 - New York, Thursday May 5th, 2011. Davis Penthouse

I wake up naked, half on top of Lucas. It's the same, every day, for nearly six months. We screw, we cuddle, we fall asleep, I wake up happy and restored on top of him. I know exactly what it is. My sleeping self just wants to make sure he is not going anywhere. He's snoring softly. I breathe in, his sweat and mine, our soap and my shampoo. The faint tang of last night's fun. I look down, and a nice little tent pole is lifting the sheets. I smile as I dive under the sheets, to play a bit with my love. I grab him with one hand, as I kiss and lick him. I play with myself with one hand, as I slide him down, all the way down. It's not easy. But, I've been getting a lot of practice, getting better at this. It amuses me just how much I enjoy this, how much pleasure I get from his pleasure. I begin humming a Madonna song, knowing well how he would pretend to be disgusted by my musical taste, while secretly loving it. He moans and begins moving, without quite waking up yet. I wonder what he is dreaming about. Would I forgive him if he said another woman's name in his sleep? He says all his erotic dreams are about me, and I half believe him. I saw him staring at a model's long, long legs at a shooting the other day and... well, let's say he'll be a little more discreet when ogling other women in the future. I move a little faster, licking his length and sucking. Suddenly the sheets disappear, and he looks at me, whispering.

"Now, that's what I call a good morning."

"Mmmmm."

"My mom taught me never to speak with my mouth full..."

"Mmmmm!"

"All right. Shutting up."

Wanting to laugh like a fool with a large object down your throat? Yeah. I call that a good morning too.

New York, Thursday May 5th, 2011, Boardroom, Davis Holdings

As I get in, Victoria has her back to the door. She is wearing a very nice green two-piece and white Bhlaniks.

"Mother."

"Brooke, you're early." She takes in the little summer dress, low sandals, short loose hair, Chanel cut and little make up. "What is this?"

"Dressing my age. I twirl around. Do you like it?"

"Are you insane? You're presiding on a board meeting in half an hour!"

She stands stiffly, arms along her body and hands clenched into fists. I should respond with anger. I haven't seen her since I left New York, and, after all, I am her only daughter. But, given the date, and the morning I had, I decide to treat myself. I jump, wrap my arms around her stiff body and give her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. She gives a little squeal and tries to pull away, which I only allow once I'm done with my mommy hug. I may be small, but I'm strong and in shape.

"What are you doing? Let me go!"

I open my arms and let her fall back three paces, shuddering. I laugh. "Oh, lighten up, mommy. I missed you."

She hugs herself and gives me a death glare. "Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?"

I giggle. "It's a beautiful Spring day, I spent the night with the love of my life and I'm a twenty-one-year-old billionaire. Should I keep worrying about the other shoe, mother?"

The death glare dims a little, and the corners of her mouth twitch. "Lucas."

"That's right. We've been together for almost six months. And I suspect he's asking me a question later today..."

"You're impossible, stupid girl. What happens when he dumps you and goes back to your best friend?"

I reply with heavy sarcasm. "Oh, mother. Thank you so much for worrying about me." Then I make a serious, Chairperson of the Board face. "After careful consideration, I've decided to take the risk. The concrete gains outweight the small risk by a very large margin."

She stares at me, and slowly the twitch becomes a reluctant thin smile. "I see. Good luck, then."

I twirl around again. "Well, thank you."

The board meeting is long and boring. Reports on last quarter's performance, expansion plans, changes in high management, presentations by the subsidiaries and divisions, plus consolidated financial presentation by Mother and a strategic planning session. By the time I'm leaving the building it's growing dark, and it's time to go meet my boyfriend in the usual place. I see Jason with the limo door open at the sidewalk, and David next to him, looking alert. I'm five paces from the door when a disruption occurs to my right. I hear shouting, and I turn to see a disheveled Mark pointing a gun at me and screaming.

"You whore! You destroyed my life. Now you pay!"

I flinch, and David jumps at Mark. I hear a shot, and I feel a hot burning in my chest, as everything goes blank. I lie on the sidewalk, going in and out of consciousness. An ambulance comes. I see Jason's worried face near me, and I grab his hand. I whisper to him. "Bethesda Fountain... Lucas..."

The other shoe had dropped.

When I come to, the first sensation is the sound of steady beeping from medical devices. My head hurts, the right side of my chest is numb and I'm parched. Before I open my eyes, I manage a croak past my lips. "Water..."

I open my eyes. Lucas is gently lifting my head and placing a plastic cup on my lips. I focus on him. Bags under his eyes, yesterday's beard, but relief, rather than loss in his eyes. I relax. Everything is going to be fine. I speak in an unsteady whisper. "What's the damage, Broody?"

He smiles at me. "Nothing permanent. Cracked rib, punctured lung. Bullet remnants extracted near your spine. Lots of blood loss, touch-and-go for a bit. Full recovery with a few days in the hospital, rest and physical therapy. We were lucky."

I cough, and everything hurts. "Anyone else hurt?"

"David double tapped Mark's heart. No other injuries."

I try for a light smile. The news about Mark is just icing on the cake. I'm not a very forgiving person, specially concerning someone who would open fire on a crowded sidewalk.. "Good riddance."

He smiles. "Agreed."

My eyes get heavy. When I open them again, My head is clearer. Mother is looking at me, holding my hand, and smiling softly. It's such an unexpected vision that I blink twice to clear my eyes. "Mother?"

"Sweetheart..."

I frown. "Who are you, and what have you done with my mother?"

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"For everything. It was a rough wake-up call. But I'm awake now."

I look at her face, and I allow for a little hope. Maybe even this stupid shooting had a silver lining. "You'll have to convince me."

"I know. By the way, I've spent the last day talking with your boy. I get it."

"What?"

"The look in your eyes when you see him. You're lucky."

I smile. He's fun when things are good. A little too earnest at times, but, fun. He really shines when things are hard. That's when you see the steel behind the sweet, slightly nerdy surface. "I know."

She smiles. "He's lucky too. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, mother."

We finally find ourselves at the fountain, a week late. I'm still walking slowly, and my chest bothers me at odd times. The heavy painkillers are gone, and I'm just using over-the-counters. No sex yet, but by the looks my boytoy is giving me, we're getting back on the saddle tonight. Gingerly.

I sit at the fountain rim, to catch my breath a bit. I look around, and when I seek Lucas, he's down on one knee, staring at me. "This can't be a surprise."

I smile at him. "It isn't."

"Brooke Penelope Davis." He extends a small black box to me. "You've made me the happiest man in this world. Will you marry me?"

I purse my lips and take the little box. "Let's check this first." There's a little uncertainty in his eyes. A one-carat diamond platinum ring, round cut, with tiny diamonds around it. I smile. "Peyton's ring?"

He frowns "She never even saw it. You're the only one who ever wore it."

"So, it's my ring."

"If you want it."

I give him my broadest smile. "Oh, I want it. It's for real this time, isn't it?"

"It's for real."

"Then yes. I'll marry you."

I get up and he embraces me gently, giving me a tender kiss. I hear clapping, and we look around, our bubble burst. A dozen people are standing around, smiling, clapping and congratulating us. It's been four years and a week since that night. And this time it's for real.

Tree Hill, June 28th, 2011. Scott Residence

We park the SUV in front of Nathan and Haley's. We haven't seen them since that night at Tric's, and, although we have both exchanged phone calls with the Scotts, they don't know we're together. I look at the ring in my finger. This is going to be fun.

As we park, Lily runs outside, gives Nathan and Haley a half-hearted hug and runs inside to look for her birthday partner. Lucas yells at her. "Tell Jamie to find us."

"All right!" She yells back. Karen embraces Haley and Nathan, and Andy greets them a little more formally. Then it's us.

I open my arms. "Tutormom!"

"Tigger! I missed you so much!"

"And I've missed you, Rockstar! " I get a tight hug from Nathan. "Hey, Hotshot. Looking good."

"Feeling great, Brookie Bear."

Suddenly Haley speaks in a high pitched voice. "What's that in your finger? Are you..."

I exchange a glance with Lucas. He answers. "Yup."

"You two?" We both nod. "Since when?"

Lucas replies. "Together? Since last October. Engaged? A couple of months. We've been living in Paris."

Haley screams, and I scream with her. Nathan looks like an idiot, patting his brother in the arm. "Congrats, big brother."

"Thanks."

"God, I'm so mad at you two. Why did you keep this from us?"

A cold voice comes from the kitchen side of the room. "Because they were ashamed."

Peyton is leaning against the wall. Black skinny jeans and boots, tight t-shirt with the Red Bedroom logo and shoulder length straight light brown hair. Little make up. Angry and gorgeous. I smile, glad to see her, despite the hostility. I missed her. "Hey, P. Sawyer. I giggle. You think we were ashamed? Really?"

Lucas also smiles at Peyton. "Hey, Peyt. Looking good."

"You were cheating on Lindsay."

Lucas and I exchange a glance. And laugh a bit. "Actually, in some sense, Brooke and I never really, truly ended. But we didn't physically cheated on anyone. We both tried to move on. Tried and failed."

"We didn't run away guys. We just needed time to, I don't know, really find each other, without distractions." I go on tippy toes and give Lucas a sweet kiss on the lips. "And we did."

Nathan and Haley are all smiles, but Peyton still has a black cloud over her head. "What, Peyt, we don't have your blessing?" Lucas puts a little sarcasm in his voice.

"I don't know what the two of you are doing, but you know this is wrong."

Lucas and I exchange another glance, and we start laughing. "So wrong..." We speak in a sing-song chorus. "Oh, but it feels right..." Nathan and Haley laugh, and my blonde friend growls and runs up the stairs, slamming the door of one of the guest rooms.

"Let her cool off a bit. I'll go talk to her."

Lucas stays quiet. We've talked about this, and decided that Peyton is my problem, not his. She's the closest thing I have to a sister. Birthday girl excepted, of course. We kiss our godson, play with him a bit, and spend some time with our friends. We tell Nathan and Haley about our home in Paris, and our idea to spend summers in Tree Hill, while living permanently in Paris. Nathan tells us about his back, and the hard work he's been putting on his recovery. We arrange for them to come at the end of the year, spend Christmas and New Year with us. After an hour, maybe a little more, I go look for my estranged friend.

I open the door, and Peyton is lying in the bed, crying softly. I get in, and close the door behind me. "Hey."

She looks at me, sadness in her green eyes. "How could you, Brooke? You know how I feel about him."

"We're not in high school anymore. Do you know how he feels about me? I'm his whole life, baby. And he's mine. Breaking up with him back in high school because of the way you felt was a big mistake. It cost Lucas and I four years of happiness. We're disgustingly happy, P. Sawyer. Can't you see that?"

She looks at the floor. "Yes. I don't think it will last, though. He's mine."

I giggle. There was a time I was insecure about his love. After the past six months? The past years? Lucas would rather shoot himself than touch Peyton with a ten foot pole. "He's the love of my life, and I'm his. We're getting married, having kids, and, if this stupid world doesn't interfere, grow old and wrinkly together. You can learn to respect this, and be a part of our family, or not. Your choice."

"This is wrong."

I shrug. "Very well. If you ever run out of denial, you know where to find me. Have a nice life, P Sawyer."

She doesn't reply. I close the door softly on my way out.

Paris, May 5th, 2012 – Scott Residence

I wake up to an empty bed. First night in a year and a half without boy toy by my side. Not that I slept much. The family is here, Karen, Victoria, Haley, Rachel and Peyton. Peyton came around about six months after Jamie and Lily's birthday. She spent a couple of weeks in Paris, and we managed to mend fences. It was awkward at times, but she owns a piece of my heart, and I'm glad. We talked and laughed until late.

I touch my stomach. It's not noticeable, and the symptoms have been mild, but I'm definitely knocked up. Six weeks. We quit contraception three months ago, and, voila! We want six children. Maybe a couple of them adopted. Nobody knows yet, just us. We'll make an announcement at Jamie and Lily's party, if everything keeps going well.

We spend the day being pampered. Catered breakfast and lunch. A masseuse in the morning, manny-peddies, hair and skin care... a team from B. Davis magazine is following us, registering everything for a spread next month. The dresses, mothers, flower girl, maid of honor, bridesmaids and my own dress, I designed myself. The dress itself is new. Mother lent me an antique hair clip, which is borrowed and old. Something blue is a lace thong that my boytoy will slowly peel off, later tonight.

The whole wedding happens at our home. The ceremony is officiated by an American Presbyterian pastor, the chaplain of the American University, where Lucas has been teaching. Attending are the French Ministers of Culture and of Commerce, the American Ambassador, personalities from both our worlds, literature and fashion, friends and family. We made it big and flashy. Just because we could. We write our own vows. Simple, love forever, with all our hearts. We understand each other without words. We say the words, exchange rings and I kiss my husband for the first time. The only man I've ever loved, my dream come true, the boy I would give up everything for. The best part? I give up nothing. I'm Brooke Penelope Scott. Beautiful, brilliant and brave. And the world is my bitch.

THE END


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